


The Lion and the Serpent

by Foarrin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Magical Tattoos, Mayan - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prophecy, Quests, Tags May Change, ancient tombs, egyptian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:08:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24526636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foarrin/pseuds/Foarrin
Summary: After a tattoo-like mark appears on his arm, Harry soon finds out that he and Draco Malfoy are connected by a prophecy that states the lost tombs of Gryffindor and Slytherin must be found and their souls reunited. Reluctantly, they must travel together on a journey that links two ancient civilizations. Along the way, their own love might blossom in desert heat and jungle rain.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 25
Kudos: 107





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Harry Potter.
> 
> I have changed a few minor details about the Battle of Hogwarts and am ignoring the epilogue of the Deathly Hallows, but otherwise, this story adheres to all canon.

Harry Potter sat in his office, the torches in the room casting long shadows over his desk and burning low as it neared midnight. Still his quill scratched across the parchment before him. The essays from his second years on how to produce a proper Shield Charm had to be graded before the morning. He had already left them a week late as his stress had mounted in the previous fortnight.

He reached the end of the current essay in front of him and marked it with an 'E' before setting it aside on the small stack of graded papers. The stack of ungraded ones from all his other classes was already threatening to spill onto the floor if he breathed wrong. But, there was nowhere else to put them. The rest of his desk space was taken up by books and letters and other random items he had found necessary to have on-hand. The drawers were no better, stuffed as they were with products from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, spare quills, photographs, and _Daily Prophet_ clippings. The entire bottom right drawer was bursting with letters he had received over the past two years. He kept every letter he received for either lifting up his spirits when he felt lonely or for documentation purposes.

Well, _almost_ every letter.

Two weeks ago, a strange mark had appeared on Harry's right inner forearm. Since one mark on his body had already dictated the first almost eighteen years of his life, he was sure another one showing up randomly was not a good sign. And, he was definitely sure he hadn't been drunk and gotten a tattoo without remembering. Tattoos did not suddenly make themselves known in the middle of a teaching demonstration and shoot bright pain through the inner elbow as if shot by a centaur's arrow.

No book or fellow teacher he consulted over the next few days had been of any help. After the initial burst of pain, the mark had lain dormant, a simple black outline of two animals grappling with each other. Perhaps, the design was what both troubled and intrigued him more than the mark's sudden appearance. The image was that of a serpent and a lion in battle with each other. The lion's mouth was open, its paw frozen in a downward swing to strike the serpent that had wrapped its tail around the lion's ankle.

He had spent many hours in the Headmistress's office, pacing and talking aloud with McGonagall about what it could mean. The portraits of past Heads, of course, had their own opinions, and more than once, Harry had shouted to silence them.

It was obvious to him that the mark must refer to Gryffindor and Slytherin, but he had no clue beyond that of its significance. Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin, two of the Hogwarts founders, were known to have grown apart and become rivals after a series of disagreements on the running of the school. So, that must be why the lion and serpent were pictured fighting. But, why show up as a tattoo-like mark? Why on Harry? Why, period?

A vague answer had come a few nights ago via a large eagle owl that had rapped on his windowpane at two in the morning until he awoke and let it in. Bleary-eyed, he had untied the letter from its leg. It had gone out the window before he could even unroll the scroll of parchment. It had read:

_Potter, we need to talk. I know about the mark. I have one too.  
_ _Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron in London tomorrow, 9am.  
_ _-D. Malfoy_

In his half-asleep state, Harry had thought Malfoy was referring to the Dark Mark, which clearly meant he was out of his mind to suggest Harry had one. He had gone back to bed, and in the morning, he reread the letter to realize exactly what Malfoy meant. So what if Malfoy had the same mark as him? Harry wanted nothing to do with strange marks or Malfoy.

So, he had burned the letter, with no intentions of ever meeting Malfoy in London.

But, Harry of all people should have realized that magical marks could not be ignored, and neither would Malfoy be ignored. After burning the letter, more pain had erupted in his arm. Upon inspection, the lion's paw had moved and was now scraping the serpent's face with its claws. And when Malfoy sent another letter every day, becoming more and more persistent about their meeting, and Harry burned them too, the mark and the pain got worse.

As Harry set aside another graded essay, this one marked with a 'P', his gaze traveled to the open letter on the corner of his desk. It had arrived from Malfoy at breakfast that morning. It read:

_Potter, stop avoiding me. You're making it worse for both of us.  
_ _I am coming to Hogsmeade. You will meet me in The Three Broomsticks at noon tomorrow.  
-D. Malfoy_

Harry had not replied to this letter either, but he also didn't burn it. By now, he was well aware that his doing so was what triggered the mark. He didn't understand it. It made no sense. But, he had a vague idea that if Malfoy had the same mark and the animals were fighting more due to Harry's avoidance of him, somehow they were connected. Somehow, Harry was the Gryffindor lion, and Malfoy was the Slytherin serpent. And he did not like the implications of what that might mean.

He knew he was running out of options. He had no choice but to meet Malfoy the following day, but he'd be damned if he went willingly. And in some sort of weird rebellion, he didn't wish to give in to the sleep that was hounding him. Sleeping would mean surrendering to the next day where he would meet Malfoy. If he stayed up and did distracting work, like grading, it would slow the progress of the night.

But four more essays later, when the clock on the wall chimed midnight, there was a knock on his office door.

Cold swept through Harry as he jumped to his feet and drew his wand. His hip rammed into the desk in his haste to stand up, and the stack of ungraded essays fell to the floor with a thud and a hiss as sheets of parchment spread out over the stone floor.

The door opened to reveal Draco Malfoy. He had not changed much in the two years since the Battle of Hogwarts, which was the last time Harry had seen him. True, his face looked a little thinner, more drawn. But Harry knew that was the effect of grief. He himself had grown thinner in the time after the battle, having lost a multitude of great friends that night. It was no surprise that Malfoy would look similarly thin after the passing of both his parents that night as well.

"You said to meet tomorrow," Harry said, very slowly lowering his wand to his side as the blond stepped into the office and shut the door.

"I didn't want to give you time to come up with some excuse to weasel your way out of it," Malfoy said. He stood across from Harry, the desk between them. Though there was a chair meant for students to sit while Harry discussed their grades or work ethic with them, Malfoy did not sit. Neither did Harry.

"So what is this all about?" Harry asked. "You seem to know a lot about it."

Malfoy withdrew a vial from an inner pocket of his robes, and it took Harry a moment to realize what the man was showing him. It was a small vial with a wisp of silver coiled in the bottom.

"You came here to show me a memory?" Harry asked.

"Not just a memory," Malfoy said, and his expression pulled taut in displeasure. "It is a memory of my mother's. A memory of a prophecy made to her."

Harry raised an eyebrow at the same time that his stomach churned into a tight knot. Prophecies, he hated prophecies. In the summer that had followed his fifth year, while mourning the death of his godfather, he had found some tiny solace in knowing that since the entire Hall of Prophecy had been obliterated and all the records destroyed, he had maybe saved some people from hearing prophecies about themselves and becoming trapped like he had felt after hearing his own. But, of course, memories of prophecies still existed. He just hadn't anticipated another about him.

"Your mother's?" Harry asked, deciding to ignore the obvious problem of the prophecy right then.

Malfoy's eyebrows drew together. "Yes, Potter," he snapped. "My mother's. But, that's not the point. It-"

"She stored it how long ago?" Harry asked, obviously stalling. For what, he didn't know. But he was tired and didn't want to hear about prophecies and marks on his arm.

Malfoy's hand tightened on the vial, and for a moment, Harry was sure he might break it. But then the blond thrust the bottle into his hand. Upon examining it, Harry saw it had a label with Narcissa's name and a date that would have put Harry around three years old.

"I found it in the Lestranges' vault."

Harry's attention was drawn away from the vial at this statement. "What?"

"Bellatrix and Rudolphus didn't have any children. I inherited everything from them when they died in the battle. I just hadn't gotten around to going through their vault until recently." Malfoy gave Harry a hard look, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. "I haven't felt like going through the mess you left."

Harry thought back to when he, Ron, and Hermione had broken into Gringotts to find another horcrux hidden in the Lestrange vault. All of the treasure had duplicated when they touched it since they were not the rightful owners. Now, Harry could picture Malfoy standing in front of the vault, opening it, and being buried in a deluge of treasure. It was enough to make the corner of his mouth twitch in amusement.

"So," Harry said and cleared his throat, trying to wipe any trace of amusement from his face. He didn't want a fight. Not here, and not at this late hour. Maybe tomorrow once he had slept. "Why was your mother's memory in the Lestrange vault and not the Malfoy vault?"

"I suspect she was hoping I'd never find it. But, I did. And once I heard the prophecy, the mark appeared on my arm." He pulled up the right sleeve of his robes to reveal a mark identical to Harry's.

Harry frowned as Malfoy dropped his sleeve back into place. "So, this is your fault."

"I didn't know what it was. If you found a memory with your mother's name on it, you would have watched it in a heartbeat too."

This was true, and Harry looked back down at the small vial in his hands to avoid looking at him. "So, you heard it, and the mark appeared, but how did you know it involved me?"

"Just watch it. Didn't Dumbledore have a pensieve around here? In his office?"

Harry set the vial on his desk and turned away. He moved to a cabinet crammed into the corner of his room and opened it. When he returned to the desk, he was holding the pensieve. "McGonagall gave it to me when I started teaching here." Two years of teaching at Hogwarts, and he still refused to call her Minerva.

He set the pensieve in the middle of the desk and picked up the vial. His heart was hammering. He didn't want to hear what the prophecy said, even though he knew from their matching marks that he was already tied tightly into the prophecy regardless of how much he resisted. But, in his experience, prophecies meant danger and running around the country trying to find horcruxes and almost dying more times than he could count. As he tipped Narcissa's memory into the pensieve, his own memory flared with warning as a flash of Trelawney's prophecy rung in his head from that day five years ago in Dumbledore's office.

Narcissa's memory swirled in the pensieve for a moment. Then, a slender ghostly figure made of white smoky memory rose out of the basin to stand on the watery surface. Harry did not recognize the woman, but the tone in which she spoke and the wideness of her eyes told him she was in a trance as he had seen Trelawney do once. The seer spoke in a rasp:

_"The lion and the serpent,  
once in love, once united,  
now divided, a rift torn wide,  
have gone to sleep,  
but do not rest,  
forever in turmoil.  
_

_A prodigy of each arises,  
enemies from first meeting.  
Destined to change  
the past and the future,  
to bring lion and serpent  
back into harmony._

_Blood to blood,  
_ _find one another.  
A journey made to resting place,  
vine and sand, jungle and desert,  
find the souls  
that must be reunited._

_Be warned, however.  
If prodigy refuses or fails,  
death will come to both  
in mounting agony.  
And, restless, lion and serpent  
will rain fire and venom."_

Somewhere between confusion and stunned disbelief, Harry stepped back and dropped into his chair finally. He stared at the pensieve as the seer sunk back out of sight. He prodded the contents with his wand to repeat the prophecy. Only after he had listened to it twice more did he look across the desk to Malfoy.

At some point, Malfoy had taken a seat too and had obviously been watching Harry closely. "You see the problem."

This statement seemed to break the spell of silence Harry had found cast upon himself. "The problem?" he spluttered. "I see lots of problems!" Suddenly, he was on his feet again, his hands running a familiar path through his hair that he typically reserved for stressful students or long letters from Hermione about politics.

"I've been dissecting the lines," Malfoy said as Harry paced.

Harry grunted, his head bowed to the floor in thought, one hand still in his hair. "So, this prophecy...it's saying...Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin were _lovers_?"

"Apparently."

Harry gave a choked laugh. How was that possible that two of the most famous wizards in history had had a secret love affair? For, of course, it must have been secret. If it had been known or even suspected, it surely would have been written about. And Hermione had never mentioned a Gryffindor-Slytherin love affair cropping up in _Hogwarts, A History_.

"And their souls can't rest because of the rift when Slytherin left the school?"

"That's the way I see it," Malfoy said. He crossed his arms over his chest. "So, they have to be brought back together. We're essentially matchmakers, trying to get them to make up."

Harry stared at him. "Do you even realize how insane that sounds? We have to get their souls, ghosts, whatever to kiss and make up so they can move on to the afterlife?"

"Seems like it. That's the past the prophecy is referring to. Best I can figure is the future refers to getting the current houses here to work together. But the past portion would come first seeing as if its not done now that the prophecy is activated or whatever you want to call it, Gryffindor's and Slytherin's ghosts would seek some sort of revenge."

Harry's expression never wavered from incredulity. "Revenge on who? Us? The school?"

"Possibly both. And since everything else in the prophecy seems to be literal, I'm taking the line about 'rain fire and venom' literally."

"You can't be serious." That was all Harry said for a long moment. "And if we don't help them, we die."

"Yes. And, we know that's true, the 'mounting agony', from you refusing to meet me. The mark kept hurting worse and worse." Malfoy sat forward, gripping the arms of the chair. "Potter, I hate this as much as you. But, we will actually die if we don't do this."

"Yes, I gathered that much," Harry said, his voice tight and waspish. He had just stated they would die himself. He didn't need it repeated. "Ok, let's say that we did this, go looking for their final resting places. I thought Gryffindor was buried in Godric's Hollow."

"It's his birthplace. I've never heard of him being buried there." Malfoy shrugged. "I tried to find information on where they're both buried, but sources say they're lost. No one knows where their tombs are."

Harry ran another hand through his hair and then finally looked straight at Malfoy, stopping his pacing. "How did you know it was me that's the prodigy of Gryffindor?"

Malfoy's tell-tale smirk appeared on his face. "You were the first enemy I thought of. And, you're a Gryffindor. It seemed...ironic enough to be poetic." At Harry's eye roll, his smirk disappeared, and he became more serious. "I consulted some books on prophecy too. The lines 'blood to blood, find one another' are a staple of many prophecies, it seems. It's how the people of prophecies can locate each other."

The man stood and withdrew a square of parchment from his pocket. He unfolded it, shifted the pensieve back a few inches, and laid out the parchment on the desk.

Harry walked over to him to peer at the document. It was a world map, and in the northern United Kingdom was a dried dot of blood labeled as Harry Potter. Harry leaned closer to inspect it but withdrew quickly as a flash of silver caught in the corner of his eye. "What are you-"

It was a knife that Malfoy had produced from another pocket. Harry stepped back in alarm, his fingers itching to reach for his wand. But, he watched in amazement as the man drew the blade across his palm. Bright drops of crimson blood pooled in his hand, and he tipped it to spill a few drops on the map, in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

Harry watched in amazement as the drops of blood quivered and drew together into a larger bubble. Then the large drop began moving up the map. It settled directly on top of the old drop of blood and was quickly absorbed into the parchment. The dot and label of Harry's own name was the same, except now brighter, newer.

"Your blood can track me?" Harry asked as he whirled to face Malfoy.

Malfoy was busy wrapping cloth around his hand. "Yours can do the same to find me. And if we combine our blood, I think it will show us where to go to find these tombs."

Harry was already shaking his head by the time Malfoy finished speaking. "No. There is no way we're doing this. It's mental."

Instantly, Harry felt like someone had just taken a beater's bat to his elbow and shattered all the bones there. He gasped, and so did Malfoy, both of them clutching at their arms.

"Quit refusing!" Malfoy snapped, holding his injured arm to his chest. "If I die because you're too stubborn to do this, Gryffindor and Slytherin won't be the only ones warring for eternity from their tombs."

Harry pursed his lips and just looked down at the mark. It hadn't changed much, or so he thought. Upon closer inspection, he could see the lion was now treading on the snake's tail. "Alright! Alright, I'll help!"

The pain in his arm instantly lessened, and after a moment, it was gone. It was replaced by a gentle warmth, and as Harry watched, the mark changed yet again. The lion and serpent both closed their mouths, successfully hiding their dangerous fangs. The snake uncoiled itself from the lion's limbs, and the lion lowered its striking paw to the ground. Now, there was a sliver of space between them, the two animals staring warily at each other.

Malfoy gave a sigh of relief even as he frowned at Harry. "Good choice, Potter." He straightened and clenched and unclenched his hand as if to work the tension from the muscle of his forearm. "We need to make a plan. Do this as fast as possible to get out of each other's hair."

"Not tonight," Harry said. "It's late, and I want to sleep."

Malfoy nodded stiffly. "Then I still expect you to meet me in The Three Broomsticks tomorrow. Noon. Don't be late." He retrieved his mother's memory from the pensieve's basin, snatched up the world map, and was gone.

Harry sighed, a tension in his body and mind that he hadn't felt since the days of Voldemort. He was once again tangled up in a prophecy that he wanted no part of. And this time, there was a guarantee he would die if he didn't even try to fulfill it.

Resolved to get to bed within the next few minutes, he crouched down and began to gather the fallen papers.


	2. Chapter 2

"A sabbatical, Potter?" McGonagall said in a clipped manner. The Headmistress stood behind her desk, one hand laid on the edge of it as if supporting herself to keep standing as she took in this news. "You have not worked here long enough for a sabbatical. And in the middle of the term. I cannot allow you to...finding a replacement on such short notice, I-"

"I just need a leave of absence," Harry cut in. He had known she would not receive his news well, but he had seen no other way to fulfill the prophecy. He couldn't juggle classes, curriculum planning, grading, and hunting who knew where for lost tombs all at the same time. Even devoting week days to Hogwarts and weekends to tomb hunting would stretch him too thin and keep him running back and forth. It was one or the other, and considering the latter would kill him if he put it off or refused, well...there was no option.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes, and he felt the gaze alone might cut him. "Why?" It was slow and deliberate. Suspicious.

Harry sighed. There was no point hiding it from her. He had asked for her help deciphering the meaning of the image on his arm. She might as well know what he had found out and what he had to do. He explained it to her, giving her as much information as he knew and finishing it by telling her Malfoy was in Hogsmeade as they spoke, waiting to meet him later that same day and make plans to fulfill the prophecy.

"Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin could not have been lovers," McGonagall finally said after silently listening to the whole story. "It would have been documented!"

"I say I quite agree!" piped up Phineas Nigellus Black from his portrait somewhere behind Harry. "Their lives have been analyzed and dissected by some of the greatest historians of the age. No, no, there was no relationship between Gryffindor and Slytherin, I say."

Harry turned to glare at him. The other portraits of past Heads were murmuring to each other, except a few. Snape's was glaring sideways at Phineas, and Dumbledore's was nearly in a fit of giggles. "What?" he asked, not even sure himself whether he was addressing Snape or Dumbledore.

Snape's eyes slowly moved to him. "I think Phineas is suggesting we Slytherins cannot keep our personal and professional lives separate. That Salazar Slytherin himself was not so cunning as to keep a relationship secret regardless of who it was with." He sneered as if this were a personal insult, and Harry understood why since he had learned the truth about Snape's past during the Battle of Hogwarts.

Phineas spluttered, "I am saying no such thing! We must think though of Gryffindor. Brave and noble, maybe, but also arrogant and boastful, wasn't he? He would not have kept his love a secret."

"No, he wouldn't have!" said a portrait of a Headmistress whom Harry didn't recognize. She wore a pin of the Ravenclaw eagle on her hat. "And the girls - that is to say Rowena and Helga - would have known everything. The four were close friends, and nothing would have escaped Rowena."

"Maybe they were all in on the secret and kept it all hushed up," Harry said. "Just because you all refuse to believe the affair could have happened doesn't change the fact that there is a prophecy saying it happened and the rift has to be mended."

The Heads went back to murmuring among themselves, but Harry was more focused on Dumbledore. The man's portrait hadn't spoken yet and was still smiling like he knew a delicious secret.

Harry stepped over to him where Dumbledore's portrait was hung at almost eye level since his portrait was the most recent. "What do you think about all of this?"

Dumbledore's grin widened. "I think it positively perfect, Harry. Another prophecy where the power to overcome the darkness is love. Your greatest power once again, Harry. Love."

Harry sighed deeply, unsure of whether that made him more hopeful or more irritated with the current situation. He turned back to McGonagall. "I'm sorry to leave you like this. You know I don't want to leave."

"I know," she answered tersely. "But I still need a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in your absence."

"I'll write Ron," Harry told her. "He's said things are slower at the auror office now that they've finally tracked down the last of the Death Eaters. He'll probably be thrilled to sub in for a while."

"Not exactly what I had in mind, Potter."

Harry was sure he knew what she was thinking. She had successfully survived all seven Weasleys and seen them out of Hogwarts only to now face the possibility of inviting one of them back. She and Filch would have their work cut out for them with a Weasley on staff.

"I'll make him promise to behave," Harry said, but he knew from her pursed lips that she was doubtful either that such a promise could be procured or kept. "So...may I go?"

"I don't see where either of us have a choice." McGonagall sighed and then softened her gaze to convey something of concern. "Do be careful, Potter. I fear that even when you find these tombs, they will have powerful enchantments keeping them from being accessed. This rain of fire and venom will by no means be the only thing to worry about."

Harry nodded. He had thought of that. If no witch or wizard had ever been able to locate the tombs before, they had to be enchanted to be hidden and likely also protected. In his mind, he had pictured something akin to a blast-ended skrewt guarding the entrance to Gryffindor's tomb. It would not surprise him in the slightest if both founders had devised tests of bravery and cunning that only people from their own houses could pass successfully to enter.

"I will, professor. Thank you."

* * *

Draco sat at a booth near the back of The Three Broomsticks, his fingers absently tipping a vial of his blood one way and then the other for something to occupy his nerves while he poured over the papers in front of him. The vial was only filled halfway as he had left room for Potter to add his blood. He didn't like the idea of combining his and Potter's blood, but it was necessary to find the tombs. At the very least, they would have to use their blood twice in this manner, and he didn't fancy having to cut his hand open multiple times to do so. And the vial also provided a mess-free way to combine their blood.

Another pub patron walked by Draco on his way to the bathroom. His face twisted into a look of disgust, and he hurried on. Draco set the vial aside. The man had undoubtedly mistook him for a vampire, and with how thin and pale he was nowadays, he could hardly blame him. Playing with blood while in the middle of a dining establishment was only the tipping point for such an assumption.

Madam Rosmerta brought him a butterbeer refill a few minutes later as he shuffled through his papers and checked his watch. He thanked her. Potter was very nearly late.

With one minute left until noon, he saw Potter slip through the door at the front of the pub. The raven-haired man stopped to say something to Rosmerta, and she drew and handed him a butterbeer before he looked around, saw Draco, and headed toward the booth.

"Cutting it rather close, Potter," Draco said, and he pulled the scattered papers back to his side of the table as Potter slid into the booth seat opposite him. He had gotten a bit sloppy in his search through the documents.

"I was sending a letter," Potter answered. He set his chilled and frothy butterbeer down on the table. "And McGonagall insisted I have lunch before I left. I will still have to go back and pack. I didn't have time."

Draco gave an unsatisfied grunt and slid the vial of blood and his pocket knife across the table. "Let's find out where we're going."

Potter hesitated, and for a moment, Draco wasn't sure why. But then he noticed the man wasn't looking at the vial or the knife but rather at Draco's left wrist. As he had pushed the items across the table, his sleeve had slid up to reveal a collection of straight white lines crisscrossing over the veins of his inner wrist.

Draco hastily withdrew his hand and fixed his sleeve back in place to hide the old scars. They weren't worth talking about. That was all behind him, though he fought the urge sometimes.

Potter uncorked the tiny bottle and picked up the knife. Staring at his hand as he made a small but deep incision, he said, "That's why you didn't flinch when you cut yourself last night."

"We aren't talking about this, Potter."

To his relief, Potter didn't respond. He only set the knife aside and then angled his hand over the bottle to let his blood run into it. Once it was nearly full, he withdrew his hand and wrapped it in a handkerchief.

Draco took the vial back and pressed the cork into place. He gave it a few tips back and forth and a swirl for good measure. He set it aside and began to gather all the documents into a stack.

"What is all this?" Potter asked.

"Any and all documents I could find on the last days of Gryffindor and Slytherin," he answered. He set the papers to the side of him in his bench seat so they were out of the way. Underneath all of the papers had been the world map, which now was the only paper still on the table. "Maddeningly unhelpful. I was up most of the night trying to glean something from it all. Rosmerta eventually made me go to bed though."

"You stayed here?" Potter's eyebrows rose over the top of his glass as he took a drink of butterbeer. He lowered the glass. "I wouldn't have thought you wanted to stay when you could be in your cushy manor."

"I currently can't Apparate," Draco explained, though he did so begrudgingly. The other man would discover it for himself soon enough. "And I don't think you can either."

Potter narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean? Of course, I can Apparate."

"Have you tried to since the mark appeared on your arm?"

"No, but I don't see how that would make a difference."

Draco huffed and rested both arms on the table as he leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Certain prophecies," he ground out, and he was delighted to see Potter hanging on to his every word. Even though he himself wasn't a master of prophecy knowledge, he had learned enough in the past two weeks that he relished in the fact he knew that he knew much more than Potter, "are bound by different rules of magic. They're loosely put into a category of journey or quest prophecies where the time and actions to get to the destination are just as important as the end goal. Basically, it means we have to travel in ways that are less...instant."

Potter was staring at him as he seemed to put the pieces together. "This could take a long time," he said.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. But, we still have some means of magical transport available to us. I took the Knight Bus to get here. It only travels in the UK though, and based on the prophecy talking about desert and jungle, I think we're going pretty far abroad. There's always brooms, but-"

"We'd be seen flying that far," Potter said. As if Draco hadn't already thought of that. "And we can't only travel at night."

Draco nodded. "I know. We'll just have to think of another option. Let's just figure out where we're headed first."

As he opened the vial of blood and made to tip it over the map, Potter said, "We could go on a plane."

Draco nearly upended the entire vial in his shock. "A _plane_? As in those stupid contraptions Muggles use to fly from place to place?"

"Yeah. They're perfectly fine. People use them all the time."

"No, Muggles use them all the time. We can find something different." Seeing that Potter was about to argue with him, he quickly said, "Let's just find out where the first tomb is."

Draco carefully tipped a few drops of the blood mixture onto Russia and recorked the bottle. Both he and Potter leaned forward to examine the drops of blood as they congealed themselves into a larger drop. Just as Draco's blood had done the night previous in Potter's office, the drop of blood now began to move across the map. It was headed southwest, definitely ruling out Europe as it bypassed the continent entirely. When it finally stopped and soaked into the parchment, it was not a dot. Rather, it colored in a whole country and labeled itself with two words - Salazar Slytherin.

"Egypt?" Potter asked. "Why would Slytherin have wanted to be buried in Egypt?"

Draco thought about it for a moment. "Maybe he chose to be buried somewhere he admired? I mean, the Ancient Egyptian wizards were known for their architecture, potion advancements, and, of course, clever spells put on tombs to prevent grave robbers." He paused and then closed his eyes in frustration. "I bet anything," he said, opening his eyes again to glare at Potter as if it was his fault for his revelation, "that Slytherin modeled his tomb after their example. It would be like him to devise a set of traps and puzzles you have to be cunning to get past."

Potter nodded and tapped the tip of his finger against the table to emphasize his next point. "The Chamber of Secrets was kind of like that. You had to know where to look for the entrance and then know that Parseltongue opened the door." His look of apparent excitement at their breakthrough was gone in an instant. "I can't speak Parseltongue anymore though. I lost that ability when the horcrux inside me was destroyed."

Draco actually smiled at this. "Well, thanks to our dear prophecy, I can actually speak it now. I found out when I got home from the vault that day. I could suddenly understand my pet snake and talk to it. It was wild."

Again, Potter nodded, though it was solemn as if Draco had just revealed a great burden to him. "So, I guess we're headed to Egypt and looking for some really old stuff with snakes on it."

Both men suddenly grinned at that statement, sharing in the amusement since Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs were absolutely full of snakes and it would not be nearly as easy to locate the tomb as Potter had insinuated. But their shared moment was gone just as quickly as it had come as both adverted their eyes.

"Right," Draco said. "So, you need to pack? Can you meet me in one hour? We can take the Knight Bus to London. I think we should pick up some supplies and money before heading to Egypt."

Potter nodded. "And some Muggle money and clothes. We'll probably wind up near Giza or the Valley of the Kings, I bet. Both are really popular with Muggle tourists."

Draco reluctantly nodded his assent. He had never worn Muggle clothes in his life and had wished to keep it that way. "One hour, Potter."

Potter downed the rest of his butterbeer and slid from the booth. He tossed a few sickles onto the table to pay Rosmerta for the drink. "One hour," he agreed.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry hurried back up to the school and packed within the allotted time frame. He was by no means eager to begin this journey with Malfoy, but he imagined the man would become intolerable if Harry did not arrive by their agreed upon time.

McGonagall had promised that his office would be locked and remain untouched in his absence. Ron or whoever they found to substitute for him would be given space in a vacant office somewhere else in the castle. As such, he felt secure in leaving some personal items behind, such as the Marauder's Map, the bottled memories he had stored beside the pensieve, and other such items. He wouldn't need them in Egypt and wherever else they were going.

He did, however, pack much more than he would have for a simple trip abroad. Soon after the war had ended, he had asked Hermione to make him a backpack with the same hidden storage capabilities that she had bestowed upon her beaded bag. Now was the perfect time to put it to use. He packed his Firebolt, his broomstick servicing kit, the invisibility cloak, the sword of Gryffindor, a small travel cauldron, vials of ingredients to make basic healing and calming potions, and a book about the basics of Ancient Runes from Hermione that he had never read but assumed he would need if he was to search for an ancient tomb. He used a spare change of robes to cradle the potion vials, making sure they wouldn't shatter during the journey. He also packed some Muggle clothes, but he would need more when they went shopping that night. Most of his were for cold weather and were, therefore, definitely not suitable for Egypt during the day. But the jumpers and jeans would come in handy for the cold desert nights. He hoped they would not have to endure many, but he knew from experience it was best to be over-prepared.

After making sure he had everything he thought he needed, he locked the door and left the castle. His stomach was churning with a strange mixture of dread and excitement as he walked back into Hogsmeade. He hadn't thought himself capable of the latter emotion in this situation considering how he had reacted to the news of the prophecy the previous night. But, he had spent much of his adolescence always working toward a goal of some type: protecting the Stone, stopping the Heir of Slytherin, conquering Dementors, completing the Triwizard Tournament tasks, leading the DA, hunting horcruxes, defeating Voldemort. There had always been something for him to do, another step laid out for him to take. And when the war had ended, yes, he had had the tasks of talking to reporters, supporting his friends in the recovery, and learning how to be a professor. But now, two short years later, everything felt like routine, and if he was being honest, a bit purposeless. Without Voldemort and Death Eaters to fight, everything seemed mundane. Not that he was complaining! But...this new prophecy...a clear path laid out. It would be a lie to say it didn't feel good to have a purpose again. And yes, he realized he could die during this journey too. But, surely, it was not possible for this path to be any more dangerous than the one that had led to horcruxes and a final battle with Voldemort, could it?

"We should be able to get all our errands done by nightfall," Malfoy said as they took two seats at the back of the Knight Bus. He had summoned it there with his wand hand and a loud bang as soon as he had seen Harry headed down the main street in Hogsmeade.

The bus wasn't very busy that day, and Harry hoped this would mean they would get to London soon. His experience with riding the Knight Bus had not been the most pleasant. He didn't wish for his stomach to get even more twisted with the jerky movement of the bus. "We still have to figure out how we're getting to Egypt. We should do all our errands today, rest, and set out first thing in the morning. A plane would really be best."

Malfoy pressed his lips together in a thin line and narrowed his eyes. The man's expression was wiped a moment later though as the bus gave a terrible lurch forward and he braced himself with a hand against the wall to keep his chair from tipping over.

Harry loosened his hold on his own chair as the bus settled into an easier pace. Or at least until it stopped for another passenger. "Planes are perfectly safe," he said before Malfoy could get out the protest he knew was coming.

"They're Muggle-made, so you'll excuse me if I have very little faith in them," Malfoy said.

"They're almost, I don't know, four times faster than a Firebolt. It'll get us there much faster." Harry didn't know why he was pushing for them to go on a plane exactly. He had never been on one either. He just knew that Uncle Vernon had taken a few business trips abroad and had always seemed to be in a better mood when he returned, congratulating no one in particular on such a feat of engineering. Harry suspected he did this to try to impress upon Harry how wonderful practical things like Muggle science were compared to the "silly magic tricks" wizards used.

"Can't we use Floo powder?" Malfoy closed his eyes briefly as the bus took a sharp turn. His chair slid a bit, causing his knee to knock into Harry's.

Harry made a face at this. He had grown to distrust Floo powder when Umbridge had used it to try to catch Sirius in the Gryffindor common room fireplace and even more so when the Ministry was taken over. In general, he just hated the thought of being tracked at all. He didn't need the people at the Ministry's Floo Network to raise questions about him going to Egypt suddenly. Besides, Floo powder wasn't the most precise. He had gotten lost in Knockturn Alley when he was twelve. What would happen if he and Malfoy got separated cities or countries apart while they couldn't Apparate? He explained this to Malfoy.

"Fine," Malfoy grumbled. "If you want to take a bloody airplane..."

"Next stop, Leaky Cauldron, London!" called Stan Shunpike from the front of the bus.

They both looked up, and Harry frowned. That couldn't be right. There were still half a dozen passengers to go before them. Well, maybe one of them had been going to the Leaky Cauldron too.

In this brief moment, however, Harry wasn't paying attention to the movement of the bus. He didn't think about or have time to brace himself as the bus took off from its last destination with both the sound and speed of a bullet. Harry's chair jolted, and his instinct to try to lean forward to compensate for the sudden movement only threw him further off balance. He was thrown from his chair and slammed into Malfoy.

They both fell to the floor over the back of Malfoy's chair in a mass of tangled limbs.

"Get off, Potter!" Malfoy wheezed, and Harry quickly removed his elbow from the man's ribs.

"Sorry!" Harry said, trying to push himself up. He was on top of the blond, and it was harder than he would have thought to get up when the bus was moving and bumping so ferociously.

The bus squealed to a stop, and Harry collapsed back onto Malfoy. Their hips rammed together, and his mouth was now only an inch from his. Malfoy flushed pink before roughly shoving him off and jumping to his feet. Before Harry could even stand and grab his backpack, the edge of Malfoy's robes was whipping out of sight through the door of the bus.

* * *

Stupid Potter. And stupid bus for not using a Sticking Charm to adhere their seats to the floor. How hard was it to do that to make sure the passengers weren't thrown around like sacks of dragon dung?

Draco stopped walking only once he had reached the bar counter inside the Leaky Cauldron. He ordered a shot of fire whiskey from the barman and downed it a few seconds later just as Potter stopped behind him.

"If you're going to throw tantrums on this trip just because of an accident-" Potter began.

Draco turned to face him, praying the other man would assume the fire whiskey was what was making his cheeks flame hot pink now. "I did not throw a tantrum. I like my personal space."

Potter just frowned, and Draco bristled even more as he stared at him, the man's gaze raking his face. "Whatever," Potter said, obviously unconvinced by this excuse.

But luckily, Potter didn't press the matter. Draco had absolutely no intentions of _ever_ letting it be known, especially to Potter, that despite disliking him, he had simultaneously had a crush on him throughout school. He had tried to ignore it during their school years, hiding his feelings behind snide remarks and well-chosen spats that acted as defensive walls. But, he had had to face those feelings during their fourth year when Potter was made to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. He had hated the way his stomach twisted during every task and only relaxed when he was sure the black-haired boy was safe. It had only gotten worse in the following years when he had been forced to push even harder against his feelings when he worked for Umbridge, became Voldemort's puppet, and then watched Potter be led into the viper's pit of Malfoy Manor. It had culminated in Potter's apparent death at the Battle of Hogwarts. His own heart had stopped for several beats upon seeing the limp form in Hagrid's arms. He had nearly shattered.

After the battle, he had disappeared. He had lost his parents, his godparents, an admired teacher and mentor, and several close friends all in one night. He felt like he could not bear any more hurt, and he had sworn from that moment on to never allow anyone to become close to him again. Having attachments was just a set up for heartbreak.

When he had figured out the prophecy had connected him to Potter, it had been a blow. He had done his best to cast aside those lingering schoolboy feelings. He thought they were long-buried. He was already wary that the contents of the prophecy and the fact he and Potter had been paired together was some type of strange twisted matchmaking. Of course, he wouldn't allow that to happen. Neither would Potter obviously. He knew he was reading too much into it and that his anxiety was likely unfounded. They were enemies now being forced to work together. _Maybe_ they could form a tentative friendship to fulfill the prophecy, but that was it.

But that didn't change the fact that having Potter fall on top of him, one of Potter's knees between his legs and their hips and chests pressing together, those green eyes staring into his with their mouths almost touching...all those feelings had come rushing back like a torrent burst from a dam. And he hated it. Those feelings would not win. They couldn't, not with their lives at stake with the prophecy and the fact that Potter would mock him endlessly if he ever found out Draco had had and maybe still did have feelings for him.

"Let's just get these errands done," Draco said as he paid the barman for his shot.

They went to Gringotts in silence, and they both withdrew gold from their vaults. They exchanged about half of it for Muggle money, including British pounds, French francs, and Egyptian pounds. Apparently, Potter somehow knew from the Muggles he had lived with that a lot of flights to Africa often had a connecting flight in Paris. Draco barely glanced at the Muggle money as he put it away in his bag. He had never handled Muggle currency, and it felt like a loss to have his heavy galleons changed to paper.

They stopped at a few of the shops in Diagon Alley to get supplies they might need for the trip, including a few potion ingredients. It was hard to plan ahead when they had no clue what traps or puzzles might await them in the Egyptian desert. But, as Potter pointed out, basic first aid potions were a good idea.

The part Draco had been dreading most came last. Shopping for Muggle clothes. For one single second, as he stepped into the department store after Potter, Draco was glad his father was dead. He could only imagine the aneurysm Lucius Malfoy would have had if he could see his son picking out blue jeans and t-shirts to try on.

Having been raised by Muggles, Potter knew what all the numbers and letters meant on the clothing. Draco had no clue at first because all of his clothes were tailored for him. There was no point to know his size when a seamstress hemmed all the clothes for him custom. It was embarrassing having Potter explain the sizing to him. At one point, he was pretty sure a teenage girl walking past them in the jeans section had giggled, thinking they were a couple when she saw Potter holding up jeans for Draco and Draco, his face as hot as the sun, had snatched the trousers away and hurried off.

After amassing an armload of clothes to try on, he followed Potter to the changing rooms. Potter's stack of clothes was significantly smaller as he claimed he already had most of the Muggle clothes he would need for the trip and was just picking up extra t-shirts and some shorts.

Draco made it through most of the clothes, sorting them into stacks of what he wanted to buy and what he wanted to leave behind. But, he hit a problem with a zip-up jumper Potter had suggested. What the hell was wrong with it? As much as he tried, he couldn't get it to zip correctly. The teeth wouldn't catch, and the pull would simply slide up, connecting the two halves oddly as if he had simply pinned the fabric together with a brooch. Zippers on trousers were no problem since the bottom of them were sewn in place. But putting the pull into the bottom rest to properly connect the teeth was quickly frustrating him.

He gave a loud huff, nearly bent double to try the zipper again.

Someone knocked on the door. "Are you having problems?" came Potter's voice.

"No," Draco snapped.

The lock on the changing room door popped open. Potter had obviously just magicked it open.

"What are you doing?!" Draco exclaimed, his pitch rising as Potter slipped inside and shut the door behind him.

"You're taking forever," he explained and then frowned at Draco's predicament. A sudden grin broke across his face, and this only made Draco more furious.

"Get out!" he snapped and shoved the man's shoulders. "Merlin's beard, I could have been naked."

"You're not trying on underwear," Potter pointed out. He raised an eyebrow. "Unless you're saying you go commando, in which case that's far too much information."

Draco thought his face might explode from the combination of his embarrassment and Potter's apparent glee at this situation. "Get. Out."

Instead of following this simple request to be left alone, Potter stepped forward and batted his hands away from the zipper. "Look, it's not that hard." He easily fitted the two halves of the zipper together and slid the pull up to the top fluidly. "There." He smiled, staring straight into his eyes while his hand lingered a second too long on the zipper.

Draco swallowed and took a step back. "I got it," he said heatedly.

Infuriatingly, Potter held his hands up innocently. "Whatever. I'll be outside while you finish up."

Draco locked the door behind the man and then slumped down to sit on the bench in the changing room. He could still feel Potter's hands near his waist and rising up to just under his chin. And then he could see that devilish smile that was a bit mocking of Draco's lack of Muggle knowledge and also a bit genuine.

He tugged a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. This was not how this was supposed to be going. Barely one day into their journey and he could feel himself growing weak under a mere glance from Potter. And Potter didn't even know it! If he did, he would surely have heard about it by now.

He closed his eyes, steeling himself against these emotions. He couldn't, wouldn't have them distract him from the task at hand. Besides, it was pointless to linger on such feelings. Even if he was open to the possibility of letting someone into his life in that way, it wouldn't be Potter. Potter hated him.

After unzipping the jacket and tossing it onto the pile to be left behind, Draco gathered the items he was buying, slipped back into the mask of icy indifference he had perfected at Hogwarts, and walked out of the changing room.

* * *

That night after finishing at the Muggle clothing store and eating a silent dinner with Malfoy, Harry lay awake in his bed. They had gotten rooms directly across from each other at the Leaky Cauldron for the night and would leave just after breakfast for Heathrow Airport to buy plane tickets and make their way to Paris and then Cairo.

Why was Malfoy suddenly a mess around him? Hell, why had he Harry suddenly started acting differently around Malfoy?

He knew it had been brought on by the accident on the bus. Or maybe it had started with the scars on Malfoy's wrist. He wasn't sure, but either way, it was infuriating. He found himself _worrying_ about the blond, an emotion he had discovered to be capable of for Malfoy when he was sixteen. That day he had cast Sectumsempra on him and thought he had killed him. Now, seeing those scars of self-inflicted pain had brought that emotion right back. When had he made them? They seemed old. Maybe it had been during sixth year when Malfoy had been living in fear of Voldemort as he was forced to attempt a task not even the most feared wizard of all time would dare do. Did he still cut himself and was just better at hiding it now? Were there more marks elsewhere on his body?

No. Harry couldn't allow himself to think about Malfoy's body. He had already done that enough that day when he had nearly crushed the man's ribcage on the Knight Bus. That was the closest he had ever been to the man, and having been startled in the moment, he had found himself captivated by those grey eyes. Grey eyes with flecks of dusty blue around the irises. He had never noticed. But of course, he reminded himself, why would he have noticed that? Only a lover or a mother should be close enough to know those eyes were more than just grey. And he was definitely neither of those things. Nor did he want to be.

Then why had he acted the way he had in the clothing store? He could have left Malfoy to deal with the zipper. Malfoy would have just stripped the jumper off after a few more minutes of failed attempts and then opted for different clothing. He had done just that anyway. But, for some highly illogical reason, Harry had found himself unlocking the door and entering the changing room, even knowing Malfoy could have been in a state of undress. Then he had helped him as if Malfoy were a child. And then...he had lingered too long, caught on those eyes of bluish grey.

What was the matter with him? He had never found another man's eyes so alluring. He knew he was gay, of course. Well, bi. He had obviously very much enjoyed his time with Ginny. But they weren't together for other reasons. Wanting different things, different lifestyles, that sort of thing. He wanted out of the limelight; she enjoyed it, being on an international Quidditch team.

Could he possibly be attracted to Malfoy? That was absurd. Maybe...maybe it was a side effect of the prophecy. Since Gryffindor and Slytherin had been lovers, was the prophecy trying to make history repeat itself by bringing the two houses back together in a more intimate way? The original love affair brought into the present with fresh blood? But that didn't make sense either somehow.

Harry rolled over to face the wall, even more restless than he had been at dinner.

He was being stupid. What he was feeling...it was just a reaction to Malfoy's behavior. He didn't have actual feelings for the man. It was just him searching for affection, although in the unlikeliest and dumbest of places, when he had had none since Ginny.

A stray thought crossed Harry's mind as his body finally gave way to sleep. Malfoy had blushed a lot that day, turning from pale white to a dusty or even bright pink when Harry had been close to him on two occasions. Did Malfoy have real feelings for him?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first three chapters of this story were uploaded in bulk because I originally only posted them on fanfiction.net. This chapter marks the first of updates that will be uploaded simultaneously to FF.net and AO3 so both platforms are synchronized.

"This is insane," Malfoy hissed, glancing around the plane like something was going to jump out and bite him.

Harry rolled his eyes and pushed his backpack farther into the overhead compartment before holding out a hand for Malfoy's messenger bag. Despite both bags having Undetectable Extension Charms on them, they had gotten through security easily and much faster than some of the other passengers. Of course, this was due to Malfoy's quick thinking for a Confundus Charm on the guards. It didn't take a genius to know that a guard pulling out a broomstick and cauldron from a small bag would have been cause for alarm and almost certainly some memory charms.

Malfoy ignored Harry's outstretched hand and put his bag up in the compartment himself. Then, as if they had agreed on it prior, he slipped into the row of seats to take the one by the window. They had bought tickets in a two seat wide row so as to not have to deal with a third random passenger possibly overhearing them talk about magic. Though, they would have to keep their voices down anyways since the plane was packed full of Muggles.

Harry didn't really care that Malfoy took the window seat. What bothered him was that the man looked about as fidgety as when Moody had turned him into a ferret. He knew from overhearing conversations between his aunt and uncle that planes made plenty of people nervous. Some even fainted or vomited. He was praying that Malfoy would not turn out to be one of those people.

"Traveling in a tube with wings," Malfoy was muttering as he looked out the window. Harry sat beside him, and the blond squirmed in the small seat as Harry's elbow knocked against his. "I don't like this. Like being trapped in Devil's Snare with how much room they give you."

"Calm down," Harry said. "This is not _anything_ like Devil's Snare."

Harry tuned out Malfoy's continued grumbling as he looked around the plane. He didn't see what the big deal was. It was close quarters, but he found them cozy rather than irritating. Maybe that was because he had grown up in such a confined space in that cupboard under the stairs. It had felt safe, like a haven from his aunt, uncle, and cousin. Being in the plane now felt like that again.

The plane filled quickly, and they took to the air. At the instant the plane lifted from the ground, Harry found his arm knocked roughly off the armrest his seat shared with Malfoy. He looked over to see blond's knuckles white under the strain of gripping the armrest so hard. His eyes were closed, and his breathing rate had increased.

Harry's ears popped as they rose into the air, and the plane soon leveled off so it was gliding at cloud height. "Are you ok?" he asked quietly. Other passengers around them were chatting merrily, but Malfoy still looked like he had eaten a nest of Doxy eggs. He looked a little green.

Malfoy slowly opened his eyes to peer at Harry, though his grip on the bar between them did not lessen. He then pulled his hands into his lap like he was about to curl up in the fetal position and twisted so he was gazing out the window.

Harry frowned but didn't decide to the pursue the matter. Their flight to Paris was short, and hopefully by then, Malfoy would have relaxed enough to realize the plane wasn't that bad. He just needed time.

But barely a minute had passed when a distinct pain erupted in Harry's forearm, and he inhaled sharply. It was directly where the prophecy's mark was located and was burning fiercely. It was not like the stabbing pain he had experienced when he had refused to answer Malfoy's letters. Rather, this one was burning as if someone was pressing a white hot brand to his skin.

He pushed back the sleeve of his cardigan and saw that the black tattoo had turned bright cherry red. Or, half of it had. Neither the lion nor the serpent had changed position or pose, but the lion was still tar black while the serpent glowed like embers.

"Malfoy-" Harry began, looking over to his companion to see how he was reacting to this new pain and state of their mark. But, Malfoy didn't seem to be examining his mark or aware of the predicament at all. Rather, he was crying. Or...no. He wasn't crying, but his breathing was coming so fast and hard that it was plain to Harry why he had mistaken it for sobbing.

Unsure of how to approach the situation but knowing he needed to do something, Harry tugged on Malfoy's arm. The pain was throbbing in his arm, and he needed it to stop. It had something to do with the man beside him, he was sure of that. Was the red glow and pain around the serpent meant to indicate that Malfoy was in peril? Clearly, the mark had only alerted Harry, so this must have been what it meant.

Harry gave another tug on the man's arm when he didn't respond to the first one.

Malfoy whipped around to face him, his expression tight even as his eyes were wide with fear. "What?" he hissed between labored breaths.

"You need to calm down," Harry whispered. He cast a glance around to make sure no one had noticed Malfoy's behavior. He didn't think prying questions from a Muggle stewardess was what they needed right then.

"What do you think I'm trying to do?!"

Harry huffed. "I didn't mean you're doing it on purpose. But, you're going to hyperventilate if you don't stop." Not to mention, Harry's arm would probably fall off and become a singed stump.

Malfoy closed his eyes tightly again and breathed out hard through his nose. "I don't like small spaces," he ground out finally after a few more breaths.

"You're claustrophobic? And you didn't say anything?" Harry exclaimed, though his voice was still low.

"The plane looked bigger from the outside," Malfoy said. "I didn't realize how many people they would cram into it either."

Harry nodded. This was understandable. But, that didn't fix their immediate problem. Without the ability to Apparate - which Harry wasn't sure was even possible from a moving vehicle anyhow - they were stuck. "I can't make the plane bigger without needing to modify a lot of memories."

"I know that," Malfoy snapped. "I just..." He swallowed thickly. "Do you have any potions that might help?"

Harry shook his head. "Ingredients for them, but not brewed. I can make you something when we get to Paris before the next flight, but...what?"

Malfoy was shaking his head. "I can't do this again."

Harry didn't argue. It was obvious that even given sound logic and reasoning, Malfoy would not be able to properly consider the information while in this distressed state. Instead, Harry just needed to focus on calming him down first. Once Malfoy was calm and the mark stopped burning, they could reconsider the plane or alternate travel options.

"I don't know what to do," Harry admitted quietly. He desperately wished Hermione was there. She would have known what to do, would have thought of a spell or something else brilliant to calm Malfoy.

He could perform a Cheering Charm, but that was risky. Professor Flitwick had said they worked to reverse sadness temporarily but that some levels of extreme distress could not be affected by the spell. Besides, he hadn't practiced one since his exam at the end of third year. He wasn't about to try to both get it right and be discreet about it on a plane full of Muggles. If it went wrong, Malfoy's behavior could change so drastically that those around him think him mad or drunk. That was not a good idea.

But...maybe the answer wasn't magic at all. Muggles panicked like this too, and they managed to calm down without magic. So, Harry thought of a different someone, someone who was good with showing love and support and had comforted him in the past without magical quick-fixes. He thought of a mother, of Mrs. Weasley. What would she have done? Talked. Reassured him. Hugged him. Fed him triple servings of whatever she had made for dinner. That's what she would have done. But how could he apply that to this situation? His relationship with Mrs. Weasley was astronomically different than his with Malfoy.

Malfoy was still breathing erratically, his eyes shut again and a sheen of sweat shone on his forehead. "I have to get off this plane," he said. "I can't breathe."

"No, you're going to be fine," Harry said softly and slowly. Yet he was thinking quickly, wanting to diffuse Malfoy's stress and his own pain as soon as possible. And, despite his own pain, being a calm anchor while the other person was panicking was essential, he thought.

"What do you know about it?" Malfoy hissed, his eyes wide now. He made to stand up and push past Harry's legs, but Harry pulled him back down into his seat.

"You have to calm down," Harry said, and he absently flexed the muscle in his forearm. It was tight with the burning sensation. "You can make it through this."

Malfoy stopped moving from where he had been trying to shake Harry's firm but not hurtful hold from his arm. He stared at him as if unsure he had really just heard words of encouragement come from the other man. "You don't know-"

The plane suddenly rocked, buffeted by turbulence. Though no one else seemed alarmed, Malfoy instantly seized the armrest again. But, this time, Harry's arm was there, so he latched onto the man's arm with a vice grip.

Harry winced but neither moved nor said anything. Malfoy's eyes were shut, and he was shaking. Struck by a sudden idea, call it an urge or something else, Harry laid his free hand over the blond's that was clasped so tightly onto him. "Breathe, Draco," he whispered.

Malfoy slit his eyes open just barely, and Harry was unsure whether it was a simple glance or a death glare.

"Focus on breathing slowly," Harry said. He tried to focus on speaking slow and reassuring words for the man beside him. It took all his willpower to keep his eyes on Malfoy's face and not let his gaze flit to their touching hands.

"What are you doing?" Malfoy asked and opened his eyes fully to stare at him. His voice shook with an emotion Harry couldn't place. Was it still panic from the plane ride? Or was it fear of a different sort? Or something else entirely?

"I don't know," Harry answered truthfully, staring right back at him. "Trying to help?"

Malfoy gave a sharp, short laugh almost like he had choked on it.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You have to make it to Paris, and I'm the best you've got. Take it or leave it." He removed his hand from Malfoy's, though his arm was still in the blond's grip, and sat back in his seat to survey the Muggles in the cabin again.

After a few seconds, Malfoy's grip loosened, and to Harry's amazement, instead of pulling away, the man slid his hand down to Harry's wrist. He slipped his fingers inside Harry's loosely closed hand, gently teasing the fist open as if asking permission.

His head still turned away from Malfoy, Harry smirked even as he felt heat rise in his own cheeks. Then he shifted his arm, and Malfoy's hand slid neatly into his so their fingers intertwined as easily and as comfortably as pulling on a glove.

Malfoy huffed out a breath that sounded like something between relief and resignation.

Harry turned his head just a bit to look at him. He was staring pointedly out the window, and while Harry couldn't see his face, he noticed the man's ears were pink.

Seemingly aware of being stared at, Malfoy growled, "Not a damn word, Potter."

* * *

Draco stabbed at his iced cinnamon bun with a fork while a flurry of activity buzzed around him. The Paris airport cafe where he was seated was tiny and loud. Truly, he hadn't realized how many Muggles used air travel like this. He had never had a reason to pay attention to such things. But now, he could see vacationing families, honeymooning couples, and men and women in suits about to go through security with their various luggage. Near the counter of the cafe, a mother wrestled a screaming toddler back into a stroller while her other child of maybe twelve ordered what he wanted from the cashier.

He felt incredibly small, incapable. If Muggle children were comfortable riding in airplanes, why wasn't he? Yes, he really was claustrophobic, and he hated it. But normally, it wasn't that bad of a reaction. Granted, in normal situations, he was usually able to remove himself from the tight space quickly and calm down. But feeling trapped and helpless, it had triggered a panic attack. He didn't like anyone seeing him in that state, but it was especially worse knowing Potter had witnessed it. At least he hadn't cried in front of Potter. That would have been a disaster. Though...he had almost cried, and likely would have if holding Potter's hand hadn't helped him calm down.

He gave his bun another stab. He hadn't eaten any of it yet. It was only sitting there in front of him because Potter had made him order it to get food in his system.

His face flushed involuntarily as he thought over Potter's actions of holding his hand during the flight, leading him quietly off the plane once they had landed, and sitting him down at the first food place they saw in the airport. The man had made sure he had food and water before walking off, saying he'd be back in an hour with a potion for Draco to take for the next flight.

Dumb Potter being _nice_. He wasn't helping with Draco's resolution to squash and bury his feelings. On the contrary, he was beginning to wonder if Potter wasn't totally as oblivious as he had thought him to be in school. Men did not just hold another man's hand like that. At least, not in his experience. They didn't feel his grip tighten in fear at more turbulence and begin to stroke their thumb across the back of his hand to calm him. That was...something different. Had Draco been so transparent with the whole zipper fiasco that Potter had put the pieces together?

Draco scrubbed a hand over his face and laid down his fork. Even though he knew he should eat because of the draining effect of panic attacks, he didn't feel hungry. Instead, it seemed he had swallowed an acid pop with how his stomach was clenching. So what if Potter had figured out he was gay? That didn't mean that Potter knew Draco was having feelings for him specifically. And it certainly didn't mean Potter felt anything in return. Potter had gone out with Cho Chang and Ginny Weasley while in school. Potter was definitely straight. What had happened with the zipper, on the plane, making sure he got food and water...that was all Potter extending a hand in truce for them to get through this prophecy quest where they weren't at each others' throats all the time or make the mark react badly. That was all.

He drank more of his water while he continued to people watch. It was rather unsettling how easily Muggles seemed to get along without magic. Granted, everything seemed more inconvenient and they didn't know they were missing out on so much.

"You didn't eat anything?"

Draco turned around from where he had been watching the barista make a smoothie and found Potter standing in front of him. "Oh, uh, yeah, I said I wasn't hungry."

"I know, but I thought given that I was gone an hour..." Potter pulled out the chair on the other side of the table and sat. He pulled the plate with the cinnamon bun on it toward him and picked up Draco's abandoned fork. He sliced off a bite and held it up in front of Draco as if expecting him to eat it from Potter like a child.

Draco shoved his hand away, and again his face flushed, but this time it was in anger. "What the hell are you doing?"

Potter raised an eyebrow. "No?" He shrugged and ate the bite of bun himself. "You need to relax," he said through the mouthful.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Look, I don't know what you're playing at, Potter, but this isn't funny. Stop smirking! You're mocking me. Just because we...we held hands..."

Potter swallowed the food and set the fork aside. His face had cleared of that annoying smirk and seemed sincere now, which Draco didn't trust at all. "I'm not mocking you," he said. "And I didn't even mention anything about what happened on the plane. You're the one bringing it up. I don't know why it's an issue. I did what had to be done to keep you calm. When you panicked, my mark started burning like a distress signal. The serpent glowed red like a brand."

Draco should have felt relieved at this explanation, but instead he felt disappointed. Why on earth was he disappointed?! Had there been the smallest sliver of him holding out hope that Potter actually liked men and had done all those things out of some type of feelings for him? The idea was ludicrous, of course, but that didn't change what Draco was feeling.

"Oh," he said. He shook himself mentally and nodded, trying to keep his expression blank. "Didn't know it could do that. That's a good thing to know, I guess." He took another drink of water. "So, you, uh, got the potion made?"

A frown touched Potter's features. "Not exactly. I thought I could make a Calming Draught before our flight, but it takes a few hours longer than we have to brew. I did make a Sleeping Draught though."

It was Draco's turn to frown. "While being unconscious on the plane sounds great, are you sure I'll wake up in time?" He couldn't imagine the embarrassment he would feel if he woke up off the plane and discovered Potter had had to carry him off or something else equally humiliating.

"You can start with a small dose and see how long it knocks you out for," Potter suggested. "The book says one swallow is good for two hours, but it differs based on a person's height and weight. And it's a four hour flight, so I figure that if nothing else, you'll be out for the majority of the trip."

* * *

Once they had boarded the plane and it was turning onto the runway for takeoff, Harry handed Malfoy the small vial of Sleeping Draught he had brewed in a janitorial closet at the airport. "Remember, just take a little for now."

He laid his head back against the headrest of his seat as the plane picked up speed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Malfoy take a gulp of the potion, push the cork back into place, and slide it into the pocket of his jeans.

Harry felt a twinge of guilt with what he had said back at the cafe. He had acted like his actions on the previous plane had simply been the product of his desire to stop his own pain. And, though Harry tried now to convince himself that that was the truth, he knew it wasn't. When he had seen Malfoy's panic attack, he had started to worry for the man again. And in that moment when their hands came together for the first time, he had felt something else stir inside him, something he couldn't easily write off as nothing. He wasn't sure exactly what it was. Protectiveness? Vulnerability? Desire? Maybe all three. Whatever it was, he had felt it before. That same something had built in him all of sixth year when he had been falling for Ginny.

But what did it matter? If he had feelings for Malfoy, he would just ignore them. He was sure that if Malfoy was experiencing anything akin to his own thoughts and feelings, that they would actually agree on something for once: they could not act on such emotions. They had a job to do. Plus, there was too much bad blood between them from years of tormenting each other. They couldn't simply erase that.

At the same time, Harry felt as though he had changed dramatically in the last two years since the war ended. Maybe Malfoy had too. At the very least, maybe they could come out of this as friends.

The plane jerked from turbulence, and Malfoy, already knocked out from the potion, slumped forward. Harry instinctively reached an arm out to grab him before his face could slam into the seat in front of him.

Carefully, Harry brought Malfoy back into his seat and buckled him in. His head lolled to the side at what Harry assumed was a very uncomfortable angle. He sighed and shifted both of their bodies until he successfully had Malfoy's head lying on his shoulder.

Hopefully, he would notice when Malfoy started to awake so he could move him to lean against the window. If Harry was going to avoid acting on his stirring feelings for the man, he definitely didn't want Malfoy to wake up and turn into a beautiful blushing mess at their position.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super long chapter, guys! Sorry, I just couldn't find a good place to split it! Enjoy!

They arrived in Cairo well after nightfall and took a taxi to a hotel on the edge of the city. While the taxi ride had been less than enjoyable due to the driver's hairpin turns and the bumpy roads, Draco was pleased to find the hotel well-furnished and clean. The room even had air conditioning available for a few extra pounds. Draco had suggested just using a simple Chilling Charm like he did with the manor at home during the summer, but Potter insisted they cool the room by Muggle means in case housekeeping came in while they were out and got suspicious. Draco wasn't exactly thrilled about this. It was obvious that prior to their check-in, the room had sat with stagnant air for at least a few days, probably because the last occupants hadn't minded the heat. He suspected it would take a while for the air contraption to circulate all the air. But, after a good thirty minutes, the room had started to cool considerably.

Yes, they were sharing one room. According to the front desk clerk downstairs, tourist season was at its peak, and everyone wanted rooms with a view of Giza. So, the hotel was very limited on space. Much to Draco's great relief, the room had two beds. He flushed just to think about sharing a bed with Potter.

Luckily, Potter wasn't anywhere close enough to see Draco's face. The blond was standing on the balcony, his hands braced against the railing as he looked out upon the Great Pyramids of Giza. Even miles away from Cairo, they were huge and intimidating, giant structures penetrating the night sky. The nightly light show was currently playing. This involved what Potter said were projections and lasers all based on light machines. That didn't mean too much to Draco, but he couldn't help but feel it was impressive even though it was Muggle technology. Images detailing Egypt's pharaohs were projected onto the side of the pyramids as a voice, seemingly magically modified like Ludo Bagman's had been at the World Cup stadium, told a dramatic tale of battles and Egyptian deities.

"Are you going to come eat?" Potter called from inside the room.

Draco sighed and pulled himself away from the railing. He closed the balcony door behind him, effectively dulling the voice outside. While entertaining and a bit educational, the voice was honestly a bit too loud for Draco to hear Potter very well otherwise.

Potter was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room. He held a ladle in one hand and half of a hawawshi in the other. A small cauldron sat bubbling in front of him. He took another bite of the meat and vegetable stuffed pita bread and leaned over the cauldron to inspect the surface.

"Could you not get onions in my Calming Draught?" Draco snapped as Potter's hand holding the hawawshi hovered precariously over the rim of the cauldron in the man's apparent distraction. He knew he should have made the potion himself, but Potter had volunteered to do it for him again to simply have some on hand for emergencies. And since he didn't fancy potion brewing much himself, he hadn't argued the point.

Potter glanced up and straightened up so he was no longer sitting over the potion. "Sorry. Anyways, you need to eat, and we need to discuss a plan. I think we should try the blood tracking thing again to see if it points anywhere more specific now that we're here."

Draco sighed and picked up his messenger bag and his own hawawshi from the take-away bag they had gotten from the restaurant next door to the hotel. He sat across from Potter on the floor and took out the world map and the vial of blood. He handed both to Potter before unwrapping the foil on his food. He began eating the spicy dish. He probably should have gotten his without the chilis.

He watched as Potter poured a few drops of their blood onto the map. The blood behaved just as if had the last time they had used it, sliding across the parchment and then sinking into the map. Again, the whole country of Egypt was soaked crimson. No words were added next to Slytherin's name, no indication of city or landmark to go to.

Potter sighed heavily, replaced the cork on the vial, and turned back to the potion. "So. That's not good."

Draco chewed over his mouthful and swallowed. "I wouldn't have guessed," he said, his voice practically singed with sarcasm. He was quiet for a moment as he watched Potter consult the potions book and then add a few dried lavender petals to the cauldron. "I think we should explore the city tomorrow. Look for anything magical. Maybe some wizarding shops are hidden down some alleys. We saw that market on the way in. We could start there and find some local wizards to ask for any information."

Potter nodded. "I was thinking the same," he said.

"And if that doesn't work," Draco continued, "we'll just have to go around to the known tombs and see if we can find any clues that we can connect to Slytherin. See if there's anything that could have inspired him."

"So, we have to think like Slytherin," Potter said dryly. "Last time I found a hidden place of his, it wasn't exactly welcoming or easy to find."

"The Chamber of Secrets was meant to be hidden so well that the other founders wouldn't be able to locate it," Draco pointed out. "But Slytherin had a flair for the dramatic and flashy. If there was ever a place to splurge on something, it was his tomb. It'll be hidden, sure, but it'll be obvious it's his. Maybe it's invisible. I can't imagine he _wouldn't_ have built a pyramid."

Potter suddenly went rigid, his eyes wide. "Pyramids," he mumbled.

Draco's eyebrows scrunched together. "Yes, Potter, pyramids. We're in-"

"Egypt," Potter said, finishing the sentence for him. He turned to stare at him and then finally blinked. "I've been so stupid. Bill Weasley used to work for Gringotts bank as a curse-breaker. Here. In Egypt. He took the whole Weasley family on a tour of the pyramids before."

Draco stared now, and from the combined heat and disbelief rising in him, he thought he could have punched the other man just then. "You're remembering this _now_? When we're a continent away and can't Apparate?"

"I know," Potter moaned, covering his face with his hands. He sighed and looked up quickly. "We'll just...we just have to hope there's a wizarding post office in Cairo. We'll send an owl, and I'm sure he'll help."

* * *

By lunchtime the next day, Harry was almost certain there couldn't be a single owl within all of Cairo. The city was noisy, dusty, and littered with debris. If there had been a wizard within twenty miles, surely they would have done some magic to help tidy the streets. But...that wasn't necessarily true. There had to be wizards around somewhere. Bill had worked in Egypt, and Cairo was the largest city in the country. This had to be where the Gringotts was located. But where? Was there a whole Egyptian version of Diagon Alley hidden behind a merchant booth? Anything was possible where magical concealment was concerned, Harry reminded himself, which did nothing to boost his spirits.

He and Malfoy stopped to purchase some lamb kebabs from a woman's street cart, both famished from wandering the city's bustling market that morning. Neither of them had seen anything to indicate wizards nearby. Once, Harry had seen a brass teapot vanish from a merchant's table while the man had his back turned, but the boy was gone before Harry could determine if it had been magic or simple sleight of hand.

"I thought for sure that bloke with the 'flying carpets' would be a good lead," Harry said before plucking the topmost square of lamb from the skewer with his teeth.

Malfoy was nibbling on a mushroom from his own kebab. "Honestly, me too." He sighed as they walked down the street, still headed deeper into the heart of Cairo.

Harry knew they had barely scraped the surface of Cairo. It was a huge city, and any amount of secret wizarding shops could be hidden practically anywhere. How long would it take them to find a lead? Earlier that morning when it had become apparent finding a wizard in Cairo was not as easy as they had hoped, they had discussed a plan of switching back and forth between scouring the city and exploring the tombs on different days. Eventually, they would find something promising. They had to.

After they had both finished their lunch and as they were discussing where to head next, the roar of several motorbikes and the sight of people scurrying out of the street made both of them look around. Coming up the street toward them were half a dozen motorcycles, all bright canary yellow. Their riders wore matching yellow jackets that Harry thought must be sweltering in the sun.

As the bikes passed them, headed further into the city, Harry gasped, and he felt Malfoy go rigid next to him.

Emblazoned on the back of every jacket was a large black badger, its claws being drawn through a tall letter 'H'.

Harry and Malfoy looked at each other before both taking off up the street after the bikes. The crowd had closed back together as soon as the bikes had passed, so moving through the many people was like pushing through mud. But the bikes were still visible up ahead, slowly moving as they too were caught waiting for the crowd to let them through on the next corner.

The bikes turned a corner, and Harry was worried they might lose them. Hell, where was Malfoy too? He had apparently lost him among the crowd.

Just then, a hand closed around his and tugged him along through the throng of people. It was Malfoy, and he had a vice grip on his hand as he tore through the crowd. Harry was sure several people were shoved out of their way with a more tame version of a Hurling Hex.

Malfoy came to a sudden halt on the street corner, and Harry rammed into him. He caught the blond around the waist before he fell from the force of the collision.

"I'm fine," Malfoy snapped, straightening and batting Harry's hands away as his face flushed a violent pink.

Harry smirked behind Malfoy's back once he had lowered his hands from his waist and the man had turned away. "Why'd you stop?"

Malfoy looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes. "Merlin's beard, Potter, look for yourself." He motioned up the street. The bikes had stopped outside a pub, and all the riders were clambering off their bikes.

Harry followed Malfoy to the bikers. Some had already disappeared inside by the time they reached them. Now, all that was left was a large muscly man that looked to be about thirty and a girl who still had her helmet on. A long blonde braid fell down her back.

"Can we help you?" asked the man in a kinder voice than Harry expected. If there had been any doubt in his mind that this group of bikers were Hufflepuffs, there was none now.

"Yeah, we-" Harry began, but then the girl whipped around to see who her friend was talking to.

"Harry? Draco?" She quickly tugged off her helmet. It was Susan Bones, a Hufflepuff girl who had been in the same year as Harry and Malfoy and who had been a part of the DA.

* * *

Draco thought it was strange enough that apparently a group of past Hufflepuffs had formed something akin to a Muggle motorcycle gang right in the heart of Egypt. But, now, he was so taken aback by seeing one of his former classmates that he wasn't even paying attention to what Susan was saying at first.

"I can't believe it," Susan said as she hugged Potter. She pulled back and glanced at Draco. Thankfully, she made no move to hug him and simply shook his hand instead. "What are you guys doing here?"

"It's a long story, but I'm honestly psyched to see you," Potter said.

Susan was still smiling, but as she looked between them, the grin faded from her face. "You two hate each other. There's only one reason you'd both be here together." Her gaze shot to Potter's arm, and she snatched it, pulling it close to examine the prophecy's mark on his inner forearm. She sighed and dropped his arm. Turning to her companion who was watching with his eyebrows raised, she said, "We should get them to headquarters."

"Whoa, wait," Draco said, and she looked back at him with a worried crease in her forehead. "Do you know something about all this?" He motioned to the mark on his own arm. He didn't exactly want to go around telling anyone and everyone about their prophecy task, but it was obvious Susan was already privy to the information somehow.

Hesitantly, Susan nodded. "More than you could ever imagine." She turned back to the man standing on the other side of her bike, which Draco now noticed had _Helga's Hellraisers_ written across the body in slanted black calligraphy. "Derek, tell River I've found the next set of prodigies and you all should meet me back at headquarters after you've finished lunch."

"I think he'll find this a little more important than lunch," the man called Derek said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Susan shook her head. "I'll give them the rundown by myself. You guys have time to eat."

Derek nodded and left them to enter the pub.

Susan turned back to them and gave a weak smile. "I have a lot to tell you two."

"Uh, yeah!" Draco said. Panic had gripped his chest at Susan's words to Derek, and it was evident from the look on Potter's face that he was experiencing something similar. "You said the 'next set of prodigies'. We aren't the first ones?"

"As in...others have failed this same prophecy before?" Potter added.

Susan took a deep breath and sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I'll explain everything. Just hang on." She turned away, glanced up and down the street, and then took out her wand and muttered a spell. Her motorcycle shrank to the size of a toy model, and she bent to pick it up and pocketed it. She straightened up, stowed her wand out of sight, and held out her hands for each of them. "I'll Apparate you to headquarters. I know you can't right now, but I can take you."

Apprehensive and highly annoyed that Susan seemed to know a lot more about their life-threatening quest than they did, Draco growled as he took her hand. As soon as Potter grabbed her other hand, they turned on the spot and disappeared with a soft 'pop'.

The world re-materialized an instant later, and Draco found himself standing in what appeared to be a chamber hewn from beige stone. Nearly a dozen motorbikes identical to the ones in town were lined up against one wall. Picnic tables were set up around an empty fire pit in the center of the room. Along the back room were cabinets, cupboards, and a sink.

"Where are we?" Potter asked, letting go of Susan's hand as he surveyed the room.

Draco crossed his arms over his stomach. "That's not the issue right now."

"We're inside the Sphinx," Susan said. At both Draco's and Potter's startled expressions, she continued, "The Great Sphinx of Giza is considered a protected monument by both the Egyptian Muggle ministry and the Egyptian Ministry of Magic. No one can do excavations here, and we have permission to use it as a base. This is the top floor. Our garage and cafeteria combo. There's more chambers below this one for sleeping and such."

Draco huffed out a breath. "Ok, so, that's all fine. But what the hell is going on?"

Susan motioned to the nearest table, and they sat with Susan on one bench and he and Potter on the other across from her. "I know this is a lot to take in," she said slowly. "But, you're already here and have the marks and everything, which tells me you guys have figured out a bit of the prophecy."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, and how exactly do you know about it? Who is this group you're with?"

"And again, we need to know about this thing of us not being the first ones to attempt this prophecy," Potter said, and Draco was happy to see the raven-haired man looking as irritated as he felt.

Susan pressed her palms against the surface of the table and splayed her fingers as she sighed. "I'll explain it all. Let me start from the beginning. This group I'm a part of is called _Helga's Hellraisers._ Our job is to control magical crime in Cairo because the Egyptian Ministry of Magic doesn't have the best auror program. And frankly, our group has been here much longer than any Ministry of Magic has."

Draco frowned. "You're saying you're vigilantes?"

"No, as I said, we have permission to be here. We work with the Ministry. We're more like police than anything, though we do have the appearance of, I suppose, what Muggles would think is a gang. But we control crime, not make it."

"Then why the aggressive name?" Potter asked. "And what do you mean that this group has been around that long?"

Susan nodded as if she were expecting these questions. "The aggressive name and appearance makes the Muggles leave us alone. It helps us be more efficient to get through the streets and get information from Muggles who might have witnessed something magical. As for our origin date, we've been around since Helga Hufflepuff was alive. Granted, back then, we weren't called by our current name, of course, and we didn't help control the magical community. That was all way before the Statute of Secrecy. Originally, this group was made to guard Salazar Slytherin's tomb."

Susan could have grown a second head right then, and Draco would have been less surprised. "Why would Hufflepuff want to protect Slytherin's tomb?"

"When Slytherin cut ties with Hogwarts and the other founders, he came to Egypt to study the more pure magic of the Egyptians. The pharaohs were often a line of pureblood wizards who also valued pureblood as blood of the gods or whatever, so Slytherin came here to work with them. Hufflepuff never agreed with Slytherin on blood status, but she was the most forgiving out of the four, just wanting peace between her friends again and hoping Gryffindor and Slytherin could mend their relationship, so she sought out Slytherin to try to bring him back to the school. It didn't work, but Slytherin and Hufflepuff became friends again. They kept in contact over the years until Slytherin requested she return to Egypt when he was on his deathbed. He told her of a great black pyramid he had built and hidden in the desert. Only a certain priest knew how to access it, and had made an Unbreakable Vow with him to kill himself inside the pyramid after he had performed Slytherin's burial rights so he could never speak of it. So, even Huffepluff didn't know where this pyramid was or how to access it. But, she did swear to Slytherin that she and her own prodigies would protect it for generations from those seeking to find his great tomb and rob it." She leaned back a bit and shrugged. "That's how the story goes at least, passed down through the generations of our group."

"What else is hidden in Slytherin's tomb besides his body?" Potter asked sharply. "If someone wanted to rob it..." He swallowed. "Did Voldemort ever try to rob it? He was obsessed with the founders and their heirlooms. He made a horcrux from Slytherin's locket."

Susan's gaze fell to the table, and she gave a jerky nod. "I read that about the horcruxes in that tell-all book Hermione Granger wrote last year. Voldemort did come looking for more of Slytherin's possessions during the first war. That's...that's why my family was killed back then. They were all part of this group, and they refused to help him find the pyramid. He slaughtered everyone who was here, and the group only still exists because a few members were in hiding abroad. We're far smaller than we used to be. My whole family has been a part of this group for generations. I could only become a member after I was of age, so I came here right after the battle at Hogwarts."

"How did Voldemort know about the tomb?" Potter asked. "It seems only Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and this priest knew about it."

Susan nodded and looked back up. "Right. That's what I need to explain. Voldemort knew about it because this prophecy has been retold, or reassigned, to different pairs of Gryffindors and Slytherins over the last five hundred or so years. Word gets around in certain circles, but it's largely still considered a legend or we'd have people banging down our front door all the time."

Draco's stomach plummeted. Five hundred years and no one had succeeded with the prophecy's tasks. How could they succeed where other witches and wizards had failed repeatedly?

"Anyways," Susan continued. "Every time the prophecy is retold, a record of it appears on a shelf we have downstairs. When the next pair of prodigies has been marked, meaning one of them has heard the prophecy to activate it, our orb record shatters. We've been on the lookout for you two since it shattered a few weeks ago, making frequent trips to town because we know you can't Apparate. We must have missed you at the airport earlier this week."

"How did you know we'd show up here?" Draco asked. "We could have gone to Gryffindor's tomb first."

Susan shook her head. "All the pairs come to look for Slytherin first. We don't know why other than it might be because Slytherin was the first of the two to die. I personally think it's because Gryffindor's tomb might involve tests of bravery and only a very closely bonded prodigy pair can pass the tests. But," and she gave a big sigh, "that's speculation and definitely not to say Slytherin's tasks would be easy. Slytherin told Hufflepuff his tomb was enchanted to discourage, injure, and even kill intruders. Though...he seemed to suspect there would be a prophecy because he told Hufflepuff only his prodigy could open the mouth of the tomb. Maybe he knew his business with Gryffindor didn't end with his death, but unless he was secretly skilled in Divination, I'm not sure how he would have known that exactly."

Potter scrubbed a hand over his face, and Draco could practically feel the stress pouring off of him in waves. Or maybe that was his own, because the whole situation Susan was describing sounded like mostly guessing.

"Ok," Draco said. "So, these other pairs of prodigies...did they just refuse to work together and keel over?"

Susan shrugged, looking troubled. "We can't say for sure. There's very little documentation downstairs because the prodigies would arrive, learn what they needed from us, and head off into the desert. Sometimes, we'd find their bodies weeks later, somehow already reduced to skeletons. Other times, there was nothing to find. Probably some died from dehydration or hunger, and others probably made it to the tomb but couldn't get past the tests. Either way, yes, I think it was because they just couldn't work together how they were supposed to. That's not even to say how many pairs didn't even make it to Egypt."

Beside him, Potter blew out a long breath and ran his hand through his hair, making it look deliciously ruffled. Draco shook himself and turned back to Susan instantly, though he knew his cheeks were the tiniest bit pink.

"But, I think you two might be the ones to finally finish the prophecy," Susan said quickly.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? Why is that?"

Susan frowned, looking as if she might have spoken in confidence without thinking of reasons to back it up first. But, she didn't take long to answer his question. "Because it was our generation who defeated Voldemort." She looked at Potter. "You beat Voldemort, which many thought to be impossible. You figured out his secrets, followed clues left behind, and destroyed him and his horcruxes."

Draco felt entirely shoved aside, but what she was saying wasn't untrue. Potter had defeated the greatest dark wizard in the last century, maybe the last millennium. But what had Draco done? Helped Voldemort and his supporters. It had been against his will, but he had helped Voldemort's side.

"And you." Draco was startled out of his thoughts by Susan addressing him suddenly. "I know what you did after the war. Donating all that money to help families recover from the war."

Draco's eyes went wide, and he shook his head instantly in warning. His eyes darted to Potter and back to her. "I don't know what you're-" he started to say.

She held up a hand. "Save it, Draco. We all know you wouldn't publicly donate the money under your name. You did it anonymously, helping to pay for funerals for Professor Snape, Nymphadora Tonks, Ted Tonks, Remus Lupin. You even sent flowers to the Weasleys for Fred's funeral after you had discovered George had already paid for everything else himself."

Draco stood suddenly, which was quite difficult on a picnic table bench. He stumbled as he climbed out over the bench. He swiped his bangs back out of his face. "I did no such thing."

But Potter was staring at him, his face one of total shock. "Is that true?"

Draco felt like he was suffocating, his ribs being crushed under an invisible boulder. "I...I..." He swallowed, knowing he was trapped, and he took a step back. "Y-yes." He shook his head. "But no one was supposed to know!" He pointed at Susan accusingly. "How do _you_ know?! I sent the money in letters with no name."

"Because I was good friends with Colin Creevey," she said simply. "I went to his funeral, and his brother explained that you had shown up one night, given their parents money, and performed a memory charm on them so they would think the money came from the Ministry of Magic as condolences and a thank you for their son serving in the war. And you didn't see Dennis watching from the stairs. You had to hand deliver the money because you didn't know how to use the Muggle post, and I suppose you forgot about Dennis since he was so much younger than you. You could have written him a letter by owl. I figured out the hand you had in the rest for myself."

Draco's hands curled into fists, his face on fire now. He wasn't sure if it was anger or embarrassment because he was feeling plenty of both just then, most of it directed at himself for getting caught, not Susan.

"He was Muggleborn," Potter said softly, and some of the anger left Draco as he refocused on Potter and saw the gratitude written clearly on his face. "You donated to Muggles. And...the Weasleys...and your aunt Andromeda even though you hate both families."

"I don't hate Andromeda or the Weasleys," Draco said waspishly. "If you had a father like mine, you would have hated anyone he told you to hate. I even came to believe that I hated them myself for my own reasons. It wasn't until sixth year that I started to see how I really felt. I didn't want to kill anyone. I started to see through the lies. And then I saw our classmates and teachers at the battle, completely ready to do what I could never do - lay down their lives for a cause they believed in. And I could never do that because I didn't know what I believed. Potter, I've done a lot of thinking these past two years. I still don't like Muggles or the Weasleys and I've never even met my aunt. But, no, I don't hate them."

"I can't believe you did that," Potter whispered.

Draco felt awkward. This was one reason why he had kept it all hushed up. After the war, he had wanted to be alone, and he had succeeded. Donating some of his family's fortune had been a effort to help somehow since he felt guilty for not helping in the battle at all. And then, somehow, by writing the letters and sending out the money, he had grown to find he seriously meant the condolences he wrote in the letters. It had broken him to write some of them, realizing that if those people had still been alive, he would have liked to get to know them in the post-war world they were building.

"Yeah, well," Draco said and cast a glance around for anything to focus on besides Potter's face. "I didn't need all that money. Nobody needs that much money. It was just sitting in the vault being useless anyway."

Potter actually had the nerve to roll his eyes and laugh. Somehow, Draco knew Potter wasn't going to forget this revelation in a hurry. But, Potter had turned back to Susan. "So, that's why you believe we'll succeed."

Draco moved back closer to the table but did not sit as Susan nodded and said, "It's about what you've both shown through those actions. Bravery to face Voldemort. Cunning to find a way to help without sacrificing reputation. And just countless other things that I know about you both. Granted, Draco, I didn't talk to you much in school, but word got around. Regardless of how you've changed since school, I know there was a time when you thought like Slytherin himself. Don't snort at me, this is important. Thinking like Slytherin and Gryffindor may just be the things that keep you two alive and help you succeed where others didn't."

"Even so," Draco said, "we still don't know where the pyramid is. You said Hufflepuff didn't even know, so that means you guys don't either."

Susan nodded. "But, I can help with what little I do know. And that is that it's in the desert somewhere."

"That's helpful. Thanks, really."

She glared at him. "I'm going to assume you used blood tracking to make it here, is that correct?" When they both nodded, she continued, "And the whole country would have lit up. That's because Slytherin's tomb migrates. It's unplottable. It's a mirage. You have to head out into the desert, get lost, and let it find you."

"You mean our chances of survival depend on a stone triangle deciding it wants to be seen?!" Draco hissed.

Susan huffed. "Look, I just know what's been told to me, which is what Hufflepuff herself was told. Slytherin couldn't tell her the pyramid's location because it's literally impossible to find unless you're meant to find it."

"Then why all the tests and having your group protect it?" Potter asked.

"Because you can't trust magic _too_ much," she said. "Back then, they were making up all the rules as they went. They didn't have textbooks and years of scholarly research to learn from. I'm sure Slytherin wasn't sure his enchantments would hold after his death and he might have suspected loopholes in the concealment spells. I'm not sure. I'm just telling you what you need to know to be prepared. Hufflepuff was told that only a Slytherin prodigy would be able to find and open it. It should reveal itself to you if you both work together. But...I have to warn you. Once you set out to look for it, you either find it and free his spirit or you don't come back. Years ago, one of our group tried to accompany the pair on the journey. He made it a mile with them before he was suddenly transported fifty miles south and the prodigies were nowhere in sight. On his way back, he claimed to see them as a mirage on the horizon. And the best we can figure out is that there's an enchantment in the desert that takes the prodigies and puts them into an in-between realm of mirage as well. They only reappear fully when they've died, which means they were trapped, not able to find their way out of the desert no matter what."

"So, basically, we need to take a month's worth of food with us," Draco said, "and hope that that's enough time for us to figure out how to draw the pyramid out of hiding."

Susan shrugged and gave them a sympathetic look.

They sat in silence for several long minutes, and Draco only stopped turning all the information over in his mind when the roar of approaching motorcycles reached their ears. Looking over to the far wall, Draco saw the other bikers from town drive straight through the solid stone wall as if it were made of water. They parked their bikes and climbed off them, looking in Draco's and Potter's direction and talking excitedly.

"Excuse me," Susan mumbled and left their table to join the group by the bikes. They all crowded around her, obviously eager for news about them.

"This is a nightmare," Draco groaned and dropped his face into his hands. "It's impossible."

"Most everything I did between the ages of eleven and eighteen seemed impossible," Potter said, which Draco thought was completely unhelpful because he knew outside forces had intervened many times to save the Chosen One from expulsion or death.

"You'll have to excuse me for not looking on the bright side of things when faced with death myself. I'm not terribly used to it," Draco bit out. "And spending who knows how long in the desert with only the choice of starving to death or finding Slytherin's pretty little death trap puzzle isn't exactly the way I want to go. At least, I guess we don't need to worry about contacting Bill anymore. He won't have any more information than these people."

Susan came back a few minutes later, and Draco was glad to see the other bikers headed toward a set of steps leading underground. He didn't want to deal with more people and more overwhelming information just then.

"Ok, so..." She began, sitting down across from them again. "I think, and they agree with me, that we can't let you guys just head out."

"Can't _let_ us?" Draco glared at her. "Last I checked, you guys were protectors, not-"

Susan slammed her hand down on the table, causing both Draco and Potter to jump. "I am trying to protect you. I don't want to be cleaning up your bones weeks from now." Tears shone in her eyes as she glared at them. "One of you give me your marked arm."

He and Potter exchanged a wary glance, and then Potter laid his right arm on the table, outstretched toward her.

Susan half-stood to lean over Potter's arm and get a closer look at the lion and serpent, both of whom were still glaring warily at each other. The animals hadn't changed position since that night in Potter's office when he had agree to work with Draco.

"Hmm, ok." She sat back down and looked between them. "The animals look wary, untrusting of each other. I can't let you two attempt to find the tomb until I know you trust each other more."

"And how do you expect to stop us from just going on our own?" Draco asked.

Susan raised an eyebrow. "Making this mark change so the animals show you two getting along is in your best interest. The more you work together and trust each other, the better your chances of surviving this prophecy become. But, clearly, you don't believe me. So..." She took out her wand, and before either of them could react, she had waved it, pointing to each of them in turn.

A black metal shackle fastened itself around Draco's left wrist. Looking at Potter, he saw the man wore an identical one on his left hand as well. A chain of maybe two feet in length connected the two cuffs.

"Wait," Draco said, and his eyes went wide as he watched Susan putting her wand away. "What?!"

"Both of you have your wand hand free," Susan said calmly as if this was his chief worry at the moment, which it most certainly was not. "You two will go back to your hotel in town and spend the next few days gathering the food supplies and whatever else you'll need for the trip to the pyramid. I'll check in every night and see if the mark has changed favorably. Only then will I remove the cuffs."

"What?" Draco repeated, his voice higher this time. "That's insane. We're adults and can make our own decisions about when we're ready."

"I am just trying to help!"

"By gluing us together?"

"Yes!"

"But...but..." Draco felt like the room was spinning. How were they supposed to function while chained together? Use the toilet? Take a shower? Sleep? Holy shit, he did not like the implications of this at all. He already wanted as much space from Potter as possible to keep his feelings for the man at bay.

"The cuffs are invisible to Muggles, so you won't draw attention going around town. And don't bother trying to remove them yourselves. Only I can take them off."

Draco turned to stare at Potter, who hadn't said a single word yet. He was thoroughly annoyed to see the man laughing behind his hand. "Do you think this is funny, Potter?"

"Actually, yeah, kind of," he said. He smirked. "Least this way I won't lose you in a crowd again."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have increased the rating to M for suggestive content. Things will likely become explicit in later chapters.

Harry's amusement with the handcuff situation quickly became muddled with frustration after Susan had Apparated them back to their hotel. Simply walking down the street to find stores in which to buy canned goods and the like for their trip into the desert was suddenly difficult. Since their left hands were bound and the chain did not reach far enough to walk normally, they only had two options. At first, Harry had walked backward in the street, putting on the expression of mischief as if he were doing this on purpose. After he almost tripped over a dog though, he and Malfoy had agreed it would be best to walk one after another. So, Harry walked slightly behind Malfoy, feeling very much like a dog on a leash.

"Ok, I think we made a pretty good dent in the supplies we need," Malfoy was saying as he tucked a few cans of green beans and peaches out of sight in his bag. "Time for dinner?"

Harry nodded and moved behind him to allow the chain more slack as they stopped on the curb of a busy intersection. Once the way was clear, they stepped out to cross the street with some other pedestrians. Halfway across though, the loud roar of a car engine met Harry's ears, and he looked around. People screamed and darted out of the car's way as it barreled down the street, headed right for them.

Just thinking of needing to get out of the street, Harry seized Malfoy around the waist and tugged him back to the curb just as the car whizzed past, followed by police sirens getting closer.

Harry didn't even register the police cars as they whisked past in pursuit of the car. He was completely focused on Malfoy, whose eyes were wide with shock as he breathed heavily. His head was turned to stare at the street as if still processing what had just happened. He slowly looked back at Harry. His gaze darted to survey their position in which Harry had pulled him flush against his chest, and the blond blushed and stepped back.

"Yeah, so...dinner," Malfoy said quietly, not looking at Harry.

They got dinner, which was surprisingly easy to eat given their current predicament. They sat across from each other, both their left arms laid casually on the table so the chain didn't pull at either of them. Harry kept watching Malfoy from the corner of his eye, but the man never spoke or made eye contact with Harry.

This silence continued all the way back to the hotel and was only broken once they had entered their room and set down their bags.

"So," Malfoy said. "How are we handling all...this?" He motioned to the room.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What exactly?"

Malfoy's face was suddenly pink again. "Well, I had wanted to take a shower tonight. And then there's the bed issue..."

Harry felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, but he quickly hid it by looking around to the beds as if giving more thought to the problem. If Malfoy saw him grinning again at his discomfort, he was sure the man would just elect to chop off his arm rather than remain in the cuffs one second longer.

"Maybe we can maneuver our arms so one of us sleeps on the edge of the bed and the other on the floor?" Harry suggested. At the same time, something in the back of his mind grumbled at the prospect of this sleeping arrangement. They were both adults, and it was getting harder for Harry to ignore his feelings for the other man. If he was right about Malfoy's mutual feelings, which he became more and more sure of every time he blushed, then they could share a bed. Or...maybe that was the exact reason Malfoy didn't want to. It was clear that regardless of how either of them felt, neither of them was ready to admit it to the other.

And hadn't Harry expressly told himself that he would not act on these stirring feelings? Of course, that was rapidly changing. Every moment that he spent with Malfoy just further proved that the man had changed for the better since their school days. And then Susan had revealed that information about Malfoy's generous anonymous donations to people that Harry thought Malfoy would have sooner agreed to hug a manticore than even shake their hands. He was stunned by these actions, and this revelation of them had only made Malfoy more attractive in his eyes.

"And as for showering," Harry continued. "We don't know how long Susan will leave us like this. Working together to do what we would normally do separately is probably what will help change the mark to show us getting along more."

Draco's face pinched at this statement, but after a moment, he sighed and nodded. "I suppose you're right. But, if you so much as open your eyes a millimeter while I'm changing-"

"Why would I want to?" Harry asked and raised an eyebrow.

This question had the desired effect at first. Malfoy blushed scarlet and opened and closed his mouth several times, evidently at a loss for words. Then he swallowed, and Harry was disgusted with himself when he saw sadness cloud the blond's eyes. Malfoy gave a jerky nod. "Right. Well...right. Let's just get the showers over with."

Harry wanted to say something as Malfoy rummaged in his bag and pulled out a pair of pajamas. But, what would he say? If he apologized like he wanted to, it could lead them on a path of even more awkwardness and annoyance. That wouldn't help change the mark so Susan would free them. So, he kept quiet even though inside he was raging at himself for having upset Malfoy.

They entered the small bathroom that was connected to their room. It had a sink, a shower, and a toilet, with the toilet being right beside the shower. Harry assumed this is where one of them would sit while the other showered one-handed.

"Close your eyes," Malfoy said. He wasn't blushing this time, but rather his expression was taut and closed.

Harry closed his eyes and listened as Malfoy muttered an incantation to vanish his clothes and then laid his wand down on the vanity counter. Then he was being tugged gently in the direction of the shower until his feet hit the side of the tub and he stopped. The curtain shut with a swoosh.

"You can open your eyes," came Malfoy's cool voice.

Harry opened his eyes to find himself staring at the plastic blue-patterned shower curtain. The chain leading from his cuff to Malfoy's disappeared around the edge of the curtain, keeping it open a few inches. He sat on the closed lid of the toilet just as the water was turned on in the shower.

They fell back into silence, and Harry was somehow both content and bored as he simply listened to Malfoy shower. It was only the sound of rushing water and the opening and closing of bottles of body wash and shampoo, but it was relaxing.

After a quarter of an hour in which Harry had taken to staring at the opposite wall as he deliberately thought about anything else beside Malfoy's naked body mere feet away on the other side of the curtain, there was a sharp tug at the chain. Harry jerked out of his trance and looked to the shower. The tug at the chain had opened the curtain a bit wider, and Harry was suddenly staring at Malfoy's perfectly sculpted ass. Malfoy's back was to him as he rinsed his hair under the stream of water, apparently oblivious to the tug of the chain, which had now gone slack as Malfoy's left arm rested at his side. Harry wasn't sure what the man had done to pull on the chain or why he hadn't noticed it, but he was immensely grateful. For a solid ten seconds, he just watched the shampoo suds gliding down the blond's slick back and between the round cheeks of his ass.

Harry swallowed thickly and forced himself to pull the curtain back shut, effectively making Malfoy disappear from sight. His pants were suddenly tight with a growing erection, which made him silently curse himself. That wasn't how he had wanted to see Malfoy naked, not when the man didn't know and clearly didn't want it either. He wanted it to be consensual, and he wanted to be naked with him.

Merlin, why hadn't he suggested they take a shower together to save time and water? Malfoy wouldn't have gone for it, but it would have made it exceedingly clear what he wanted. Which...right, he couldn't have. They absolutely had to make the mark change to ensure their freedom sooner rather than later. And that meant working together, which Harry was sure also meant trust. If Malfoy suspected him of having seen him naked, those walls would go right back up and hostility would resume.

Harry had to close his eyes again once Malfoy was done showering. After Malfoy had magicked his pajamas onto himself, it was Harry's turn. He suddenly felt nervous and incredibly vulnerable as he followed Malfoy's example and vanished his clothes so they reappeared neatly folded beside the sink. But, once he got into the shower, closed the curtain, and had hot water running down his back, he felt better.

He showered quickly, being extra careful not to tug on the chain and present an opportunity for Malfoy like he had had. Granted, Harry thought, maybe it wouldn't be such a terrible thing for Malfoy to see. But he didn't jerk on the chain and was soon stepping out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist.

* * *

Draco's mind was a mix of emotions both during his shower and long after Potter had gotten dressed back in the main room. They were now sitting together on the floor, both of them brewing potions in their travel cauldrons to prepare for the coming journey to Slytherin's tomb.

Potter had made it clear that he would never want to see Draco naked. This should have made Draco feel relieved to know nothing could ever happen between him and the other man. But instead, he had become upset, saddened by this news. Had he wanted Potter to want to see him? Not that it mattered. He didn't need or want a relationship, an attachment. And Potter clearly didn't either. Again, he reminded himself, Potter was straight. Right? The way he had caught him around the waist in the street...no, that was just reflexes, of course.

They brewed late into the night, and Draco wondered if part of the reason for doing so was that they both wanted to avoid the rapidly approaching problem of their sleeping arrangement.

Eventually though, sometime around one in the morning, Potter sighed after corking the last potion vial. "I'll take the floor."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I'm not going to argue with you on that, you know."

Harry laughed hollowly. "I know. And I didn't want to argue for something I knew I was going to lose." He slowly got to his feet, giving Draco time to do the same without pulling on the chain.

Potter led them to the bed he had used the previous night and grabbed the two pillows and the comforter there. Then he moved to the other side of the room and tossed the pillows and blanket on the floor next to Draco's bed.

Draco laid down first, drawing the bedclothes over himself. He stared at the ceiling for several minutes while listening to Potter trying to get comfortable. The chain kept tugging sharply even after Draco's arm had been dragged off the bed to hang over the side and give Potter more room. After a while, Potter huffed in annoyance.

"This isn't going to work," he grumbled and got to his feet. He seized the pillows from the floor and tossed them onto the opposite side of the bed. "I know you're not happy about it, but move over."

Draco felt like he had a sunburn on every inch of his body. They were going to share a bed?!

But Draco knew there was no arguing it. The chain was simply too short for them both to sleep comfortably like they had intended. So, he moved to let Potter into the bed. Then he instantly snatched one of Potter's pillows and one of his own and stuck them between them.

"What are you doing?" Potter asked, watching him.

"Creating a wall," he answered and ducked his head to hide his pink face.

"Alright, whatever." Potter turned onto his back. "You don't have to be scared of this. I'm not going to attack you or anything while you sleep."

Draco didn't look at him. He just laid down and got himself comfortable so his arm position allowed them more slack on the chain. "Just stay on your side."

* * *

Harry woke before Malfoy the next morning, which was lucky because if he hadn't, he would have never seen the beautiful sight before him.

It appeared that sometime during the night, the pillows between them had gotten shoved aside. Malfoy was now lying flush against Harry's side, his head resting on Harry's shoulder and one of his hands splayed gently on Harry's chest.

Harry smiled, enjoying this picture of a completely relaxed Malfoy asleep in bed with him. He carefully reached up to brush some stray blond hairs away from the man's face. And then, caught by a sudden urge, he tipped his head a bit to plant a single soft kiss to Malfoy's forehead.

And Malfoy would never know.

Harry maneuvered Malfoy off of him gently so as not to wake him. Once the man was safely lying beside him in a position that Malfoy would be fine waking up in, Harry looked at the ceiling and blew out a slow breath. How much longer would they be tethered together? Less than a day had passed since Susan cuffed them, and Harry was already feeling much more for the man than he would have ever thought possible. If he had to endure another day of such close proximity, he wasn't sure he would be able to keep his mouth shut or his hands to himself.

He took his glasses from the bedside table and put them on. He examined the mark on his arm, and his heart jolted with surprise. The lion and serpent no longer looked hostile or wary of the other. Rather, they looked curious about each other, and, in Harry's opinion, the serpent even seemed a bit bashful.

He picked up his wand and quietly sent his stag Patronus bounding through the door of their room. With any luck, Susan would be awoken by the stag's message and come soon to uncuff them.


	7. Chapter 7

"It does look like you two have made significant progress," Susan said as she peered at the mark on Potter's forearm.

Draco yawned for the third time since Susan had knocked on their door and Potter had practically dragged him out of bed. As much as he wanted to be freed from Potter, did it have to be dawn when it happened? He had been exhausted after staying up and brewing those potions, and Potter had the nerve to wake him up when the sky was still pink with the flush of the slowly emerging sun.

"You'll remove the cuffs then?" Potter asked, his gaze searching the woman's face hopefully.

Draco's stomach clenched like a sponge being wrung. Sure, he wanted the cuffs removed too, but Potter didn't have to look _that_ happy about it. He turned his head as he yawned into his hand again. When he turned back to Susan, she was taking out her wand.

"I think it's safe to do so," Susan said. She tapped both cuffs, and then they vanished. "Will you be heading out to the desert right away?"

Potter looked at Draco and raised an eyebrow in question even as he rubbed absently at his wrist where the cuff had been. "I think we're ready?"

Draco nodded. "We just need to grab a few more things in town, but it won't take long."

"That's great, and - oh!" She slid a long thin package off her back and and handed it to Potter. "I forgot. We have a couple tents at headquarters that we don't use too often. You can take this one. Don't worry, there's plenty of room for both of you. It's magically expanded inside and is enchanted to keep out sand and scorpions and the like."

Draco scrubbed a hand over his face and turned away from them, moving instead to pick out clothes for the day. Potter hadn't even given him time to change out of his pajamas before letting Susan into the room.

In truth, Draco had been so focused on the handcuff situation and procuring enough food rations to last them several weeks in the desert that he hadn't given too much thought to their shelter for the trip. Potter had mentioned using a tent before, but it had only been in passing. It wasn't that it bothered him. With what had happened the previous night, sharing a tent with Potter seemed easy. But, he had also never been camping, not really. His mother and father wouldn't have been seen within twenty feet of such a mundane shelter. It didn't help that they had associated it with Muggles and the poor. Lucius Malfoy had had several choice comments when they had seen some of the campground in the distance at the Quidditch World Cup several years ago.

Draco was vaguely aware of the sound of a door closing as he magicked his pajamas and day clothes to switch places so he was now wearing cargo shorts and a t-shirt and the pajamas were folded neatly on the bed beside his bag.

"Susan said she'll meet us downstairs and come shopping with us," Potter said.

Draco frowned, confused, as he turned to him. "Why?"

Potter pulled off his pajama shirt casually. Draco's face flushed, and he had to hastily turn back to his bag and make a show of putting his things away while he waited for Potter to change.

"She just wants to make sure we have everything. And she said she'll Apparate us to just outside the Sphinx, so that'll save us a bit of time and walking."

It turned out that Draco was very grateful for Susan's presence on their shopping trip and return to the Sphinx. Having her around meant Potter had someone else to talk to besides him. This was lucky because Draco wasn't sure he could hold a normal conversation with the other man just yet. He was still processing the fact that they had slept in the same bed the previous night. And that Draco had liked it. Ok, maybe that was being too generous. He definitely couldn't _like_ it. But, it had been nice not waking up alone. And that was also odd, because he had slept alone ever since he was a child, so he was used to it and had no reason to not like waking up alone.

"Please, be careful out there, you two," Susan said, turning to them as soon as she had Apparated them to stand in the shadow of the Sphinx. Her eyes were full of worry. "I know you can do this."

Potter nodded and gave her a hug while Draco muttered a quiet thanks. Susan gave a final nod and slipped through the solid side of the Sphinx into the den Draco knew was beyond.

The pair turned away from the tourist monuments of Giza to begin walking in the direction of a wide open expanse of desert. It wasn't but five minutes later when the air around them shimmered, and Draco felt it squeeze his chest as if he were Apparating. There was a flash of light and the pressure vanished.

Draco blinked away the spots from his eyes and he peered around. Susan had been right about the prodigies entering some sort of enchanted mirage realm. Around them was miles and miles of sand, only sand. No Sphinx. No pyramids of Giza. No Cairo.

"This is weird," Potter said, slowly turning to look in every direction. It was no use. What landmarks had been there only moments ago had now vanished. There wasn't even a tree or bush in the distance.

Draco sighed. "I guess we just keep walking until something happens then?"

Potter gave a hesitant nod. "Susan said to get lost and have the tomb find us. And you've said before this prophecy is categorized as a quest or journey or whatever according to the text. I think walking and waiting is our only choice."

Draco did not like this answer, though he had been prepared for it since their meeting with Susan. It just felt different now that he knew they were stuck in the desert, contained by an enchantment they could only escape by either finding Slytherin or dying.

Walking proved to be more difficult than he had anticipated too. As the sun rose higher, the air swelled with thick heat. The sand seemed to suck as his trainers with each step, and the scorching heat from the sand burned through their soles. They talked very little and only stopped periodically to refill their water bottles with simple murmurs of Aguamenti.

"I think Slytherin's having a right laugh about all of this," Draco grumbled after he had swallowed a few large gulps of water.

"Probably," Potter agreed. He took another drink of his own water. "But, I expect it's also a test. I just wish we knew what exactly he wanted us to do to prove ourselves or whatever."

They set off again and only stopped for lunch and more water. Draco simultaneously felt like their wandering aimlessly was both futile and productive. The pyramid wouldn't appear until the time was right, but also walking helped keep up the illusion that they were going somewhere and had a destination.

Finally, the sun touched the horizon, and they decided to set up the tent for the night. Potter put up the tent with a few waves of his wand and started a fire to cook dinner. As he did so, the surrounding temperature began to drop, and some of the dense heat that had built up in Draco's limbs started to ease.

The blond sat down a few feet from the fire, amazed at how quickly the desert was becoming cold when he had thought the sun would singe his eyebrows just an hour previous. He was only vaguely aware of Potter taking out pans and some of their food to cook. Draco had made it clear during their shopping that if Potter wanted the food to be anywhere near edible, he had to cook it. Growing up with house elves doing all the cooking for him since birth had made it so he didn't even know how to boil a potato correctly. Potter had found this statement hilarious, much to Draco's great annoyance.

Now, to prevent himself from staring at Potter cooking their dinner, he focused his eyes on the setting sun. It had turned the horizon a gorgeous orange-red. And green.

He frowned and sat up a bit straighter. Even as he watched, the last sliver of the sun and its diluted rays suddenly shone a rich emerald green. It spread peridot fingers across the sky, quickly darkening to emerald too and then black. Then the sun was gone, and it was as dark as if it were midnight.

"What just hap-"

Potter's words were cut off as a blast of wind hit Draco full in the face. It was as if a tornado had sprung up right in front of him with how it was whipping his hair.

_"Reveal your secrets."_ It was a quick hiss in his ear and then both the voice and wind were gone.

Draco blinked and looked around. Potter was staring at him, though he could barely make the raven-haired man out in the darkness. The wind had all but extinguished their fire, and the embers were sparking feebly.

"You look like you saw a ghost," Potter said, concern knitting his eyebrows together. Then he seemed to realize the state of the fire and began coaxing it back to life to resume cooking their sausages and potatoes.

"Did...did you not hear that?" Draco asked.

"Hear what?"

"The wind...it was a voice." But from the quizzical look Potter shot him, Draco knew he wasn't feigning the ignorance. Which meant...well, of course it was a sign from Slytherin. But that also must have meant it had been spoken in Parseltongue. He scooted a bit closer to the fire so he could see Potter's face. "It was Slytherin, I'm sure of it."

"Well, what did he say? I hope it was a clear instruction."

* * *

Reveal your secrets. What a terribly annoying Slytherin thing to say, Harry thought.

He was lying in bed, his dinner twisting unpleasantly in his stomach as he stared up at the canopy of the tent. On the other side of the tent, he imagined that Malfoy was feigning sleep as well. He couldn't see the blond through the darkness, but his side of tent had gone unnaturally still and silent. No rustling or steady breathing that told of deep sleep. They were likely doing the same thing: each lying awake, dreading what Slytherin's words meant.

Because Harry knew what they had to mean. It wasn't hard to figure that out when the first and largest secret that came to mind immediately was his feelings for Malfoy. He would have to verbally confess those feelings to Malfoy, and he was sure, Malfoy would have to admit his own feelings in return or the pyramid would never appear to them.

This made Harry's heart swell with a mixture of hope, happiness, and despair. While having their feelings out in the open could be exciting and lead to an actual relationship, it also meant there was no more pretending. And just because Malfoy was feeling these stirrings for Harry didn't mean he ever wanted to act on them. So, Slytherin would be forcing them to admit things they weren't ready to confront and maybe never wanted to pursue. The thought of Malfoy having feelings but not wanting anything to do with Harry made his heart clench painfully. Well, more painfully than it already was, because he was experiencing a large sense of loss from not having Malfoy in bed next to him.

Eventually, Harry drifted off to sleep. The sun from their hours of walking had drained him of his energy, so what could have been a sleepless night of agonizing 'what if' wondering was mercifully taken from him.

But, the dreams that filled his mind were not a welcome replacement either. Images of Voldemort laughing while killing his parents and Cedric ricocheted around his skull, and no matter how much he tried to twist from their grasp, he could not escape.

"Potter!" a voice cut through Voldemort's shrill call of "Kill the spare!"

Harry's eyes snapped open as his heart gave a sharp jolt. He looked around wildly. Slowly, he came to realize he was safe, years and miles away from those images of Voldemort.

"Potter, are you alright?" Malfoy asked in a tone that suggested he had asked this same question already. Harry was only then aware of what was happening. Malfoy was sitting on the edge of the bed near Harry's hip, and he was grasping both of Harry's arms. Whether to shake him awake or to hold him down from thrashing, Harry wasn't sure which.

"Yeah," Harry said vaguely, his voice lacking the conviction of a decision. Was he ok? He thought so, but it had been a while since he had had nightmares like that, that vivid.

Malfoy released him and sat up straighter, and now Harry could see the mark on the inside of the man's arm. The Gryffindor lion was burning bright red just like the serpent had on the plane.

"Did I wake you?" Harry asked. He propped himself up on his elbows as he tried to push the last foggy tendrils of sleep from his mind.

Malfoy shrugged. "About time to be getting up anyway. Dawn just broke." He paused and glanced away. "Along with Slytherin's voice again. Same message as last night."

"I think we should talk about that," Harry said. Last night, they hadn't discussed Slytherin's message and had just eaten dinner in silence and went to bed.

Malfoy stood from the bed. "I think I want breakfast," he said quickly and ducked out of the tent.

* * *

They decided to stay put now that Slytherin had communicated with them. There seemed to be no point to keep walking when they had their instructions. Despite this, Draco kept brushing off Potter's efforts to talk about Slytherin's words. Instead, he took out all his notes on the founder to review them yet again. He knew they wouldn't help as they didn't hold any clues to what challenges awaited in the pyramid. But, Potter left him alone while he was reading the documents, so he read them. And then reread them. And again. He only stopped when the sun set outside the tent and cast a green light over the expanse of desert. Once again, Draco heard the Parselmouth's whispered command.

Potter seemed to suspect he had heard a repeat message and made to speak, but Draco jumped to his feet and stormed off to the bathroom to take a shower. When he returned, Potter was seemingly asleep.

Draco knew he was only delaying the inevitable. If the only way to find the pyramid and get them out of the desert alive was to confess his feelings for Potter, he would have to do it. That didn't mean he had to be happy about it. He still didn't want to form any attachments. And once again, he reminded himself that Potter. Was. Straight. But, so...what secret did Potter have to divulge to satisfy Slytherin? Because Slytherin had definitely said "secrets." Plural. And Draco couldn't think of another for himself that would mean anything to Slytherin or carry a similar weight.

He didn't fall asleep until sometime past midnight, and all too soon, Salazar Slytherin's voice was nagging in his ear again. When this happened, he angrily turned onto his other side and pulled a pillow over his head to block out the pink dawn light.

"Same message?" came Potter's voice, though greatly muffled.

Draco pulled the pillow away so he could hear better, though he was staring at the wall of the tent, not Potter. "What do you think?" he snapped.

Silence. And then the unmistakable creak of the other bed as Potter got up. Good, maybe Potter would get breakfast started while he spent a few more moments in bed fuming over how unfair it was that the founder he admired was being a dick.

But Potter's footsteps did not retreat out the flap of the tent to make the fire. Rather, they drew closer, and a prickling sensation ran down Draco's spine. Before he could turn over or say something to stop the other man from doing whatever it was he thought he was going to do, the covers were pulled away, exposing his back to the chilly morning air. It was short-lived though as Potter slid into the bed and tucked the covers back around them both.

Draco's face felt like a fire ball, and he was grateful that he was facing away from Potter. "Potter," he warned softly. His voice was steady despite the fact he felt like a python was constricting his airway.

"We need to talk," Potter said, and Draco felt the man's breath fan over his shoulder. He was far too close.

"Like this?" Draco asked, and it actually came out squeaky because Potter chose that exact moment to press his chest flush against Draco's back and rest a hand on the blond's hip. Was Potter actually holding him? Or worse - _cuddling_?

"Yes," Potter said. "We need to talk about these secrets Slytherin wants us to reveal."

Draco wanted desperately to free himself from this situation. But his bed was positioned against the side of the tent, and the only way out meant crawling over Potter. And...and it wasn't like it felt terrible to be in Potter's arms, but, well, what the hell was happening?! "Fine, you go first."

He knew what he wanted him to say, knew what it might be now that Potter's arm was wrapped around his waist. But, he wouldn't believe it. He wasn't sure he'd believe it if Potter said it a thousand times, because this prophecy was messing with both of their heads. Draco had had feelings for Potter before this all started, but Potter surely was under the influence of this great love prophecy that was trying to make them be together so they could heal the rift between the two founders.

"I'm attracted to you," Potter said softly, and this time it wasn't just his breath that Draco felt against his skin. As he had spoken, his lips had brushed his ear.

Draco shivered and swallowed, preparing his response while the rest of his body immediately went cold. This was a trick. A terrible trick from the prophecy. Potter did not really have feelings for him. He just couldn't. And it was cruel. Because Draco both did and didn't want Potter's feelings to be real. If Potter's feelings were real, that meant they had a chance...a chance for love...and for heartbreak. There could not be love without risk of pain, and Draco didn't want any more pain for the rest of his life if he could help it.

"That's-" Draco started. But his whole mouth and throat felt suddenly too dry to get out the words as Potter nuzzled his neck. Maybe his heart would just burst from his body and kill him so this confusing torture would end. At the same time, he found himself wanting to lean back into his companion.

"I never could have imagined having these feelings for you," Potter continued. "But over the last few days, I've felt these feelings stirring, and I wasn't sure what to do about them. But Slytherin kind of took away my choice to remain quiet about them."

Draco suddenly regained his ability to move, and he sat up quickly, pulling away from Potter. He turned so he was looking at him now, and he knew his own face was red, but for once it didn't matter to him. He was angry, angry at Slytherin and this prophecy crap. "You're talking nonsense, Potter. You don't have feelings for me. It's just the prophecy playing with your head."

Potter's eyebrows scrunched together as he pushed himself up to sit as well. "And why do you think that?"

"Because...because, well, for one, you're straight!" Draco said.

Potter actually had the audacity to grin at him. "Is that what you think? You think because I dated girls in school that I'm straight? I'm bi, actually. I figured it out in fourth year." At Draco's disbelieving look, he added, "Cedric."

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "Cedric. As in you had a crush on Cedric Diggory?"

Potter nodded, and his grin faded. "That's...actually why I think I still dream about his death."

Draco felt an insane prick of jealousy at this revelation, and he immediately scolded himself silently for it. He had no reason to be jealous, especially not of a dead boy. He swallowed. "Well...fine. So, you're bi. That doesn't mean your feelings for me are real. It's absurd. We hate each other."

"We used to. Do you honestly think this is still hate? I think we've been pretty civil, almost friends, during this whole prophecy thing."

"Yeah, that's us just working together so we don't die," Draco argued. "Or have you forgotten that line of the prophecy?"

Potter shook his head. "You're avoiding my point."

"You don't have a point! This prophecy is trying to mend the past and the future. Don't you think it a little odd that you suddenly have feelings for me now that we're tied up in a prophecy about love between Gryffindor and Slytherin? We heal the rift between them to fix the past, and then the prophecy forces us to fall in love to bring the houses together for the future. Don't you get that?"

It was infuriating how unconvinced Potter looked at that moment. Because he needed the man to believe it so he, in turn, could convince himself. Draco didn't honestly think that was how the prophecy worked, but it had to be influencing them somehow, right?

"I think that you need to understand something about prophecies," Potter said, and his expression darkened slightly. "Something you probably didn't pick up from reading a book on prophecies by some witch or wizard who's never been the subject of one. Something Dumbledore told me when I first heard the prophecy about me and Voldemort." He exhaled and held his gaze. "We have full choice over how this plays out."

"But-"

"No, just listen," Potter said. "I argued with Dumbledore about how the prophecy meant I had to kill Voldemort. But, it didn't mean that. It _could_ mean that if I _chose_ for it to. I could have gone into hiding, changed how I looked and ran away, anything. I could have escaped it. But, I chose to face it. Dumbledore said lots of prophecies go unfulfilled. If you had never heard this prophecy in your mother's memory, it would have passed over us to the next pair. We don't _have_ to fulfill this prophecy now that we've heard it either. Granted, our choices are fulfill it or die, but death is still a choice."

Draco gave a hollow laugh, which made the raven-haired man raise an eyebrow.

"Laugh if you want. But think about it. The words of the prophecy itself make it clear that we can choose our own fates. It is not influencing me in my feelings toward you. Don't you think that if the purpose of the prophecy was to force the prodigies to love each other that the very first pair of prodigies would have succeeded? You said this is a journey prophecy. That also means it's a choice prophecy. And maybe you think Slytherin is forcing me to tell you how I feel. No. It's me choosing life over death by starvation in the desert. It's me choosing to take a risk that your secret to tell is not of the same nature and my feelings go unrequited. Now it's your turn to make the same choice. But don't, not for a single second, think my feelings aren't legitimate."

Draco just stared at him for several long moments. He had made a perfectly sound argument. Damn it. "I..." But he wasn't sure where that sentence was going at all. He looked away, trying to collect his thoughts. His attention snapped back to Potter though when the man laid a hand on his knee.

"Whatever your secret is," Potter said, and Draco could tell he was being the most genuine he had ever seen him, "I will not judge you. Or laugh at you. You can trust me that it will never leave this tent. Ever."

Draco watched him, contently captivated by those green eyes. He swallowed. "I do have feelings for you. More than I probably realize. But, this...we...Potter, whatever we feel, nothing can happen between us."

Potter frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped himself.

Draco felt it too and looked down at his arm, which was suddenly warm. The mark was changing. As they both watched, the lion and serpent relaxed and bent their heads together so their foreheads touched.

Then everything went dark as if someone had snuffed out multiple lamps. Looking around and finally up, Draco saw a huge shape looming above their tent. He sprung up from the bed and ran outside, Potter at his heels.

They both stopped just outside the tent. A gigantic brilliant green and black pyramid was now standing a mere thirty feet from their tent and blocking out the rising sun.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for waiting so patiently for this chapter. It was a bit tricky to write, which was partially why it took a bit longer than the others. But, I like how it turned out, and I hope you guys find it worth the wait!

Draco barely gave the pyramid a two-second glance before darting back inside the tent. He seized both their bags and was back outside before Potter had even moved. He shoved Potter's bag into his stomach. "Here," he grunted as he shouldered his own bag of supplies. He magicked on his day clothes and shoes before he noticed Potter wasn't moving. He was just standing there clutching his bag and frowning at him. "What?"

"Don't you want to talk about what just happened?" Potter asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No," Draco said and looked away from him. "We said what we said to get the pyramid to appear. That's all."

"Merlin's beard, you're worse than Ron when it comes to being stubborn."

Draco spun back around to glare at him. "Don't compare me to Weasley."

Potter's eyes darkened in challenge. "Then quit being an idiot. You said nothing can happen between us. Why?"

Draco shook his head. "I don't want to talk about this right now. We have an enchanted pyramid to survive and a pretty irate spirit to free and talk to or whatever. Let's just get this done so we can get out of this desert."

Potter looked like he was about to argue but thought better of it. "Fine," he said after a moment. "But I want to talk about it when we get back to Cairo. _Before_ we go searching for Gryffindor."

Draco gave a jerky nod, already trying to think of a way he could stall this discussion longer once back in the city. But, looking toward the pyramid, he was reminded just how monumental this task before them might be and that returning to Cairo could be farther off than he suspected. Who knew what Slytherin had stored inside to test them?

As Potter murmured a spell to switch his pajamas to suitable pyramid-raiding clothes as well, Draco began down the gentle slope toward the pyramid's entrance. Luckily, and unlike the pyramids of Giza, this one had a very noticeable door set into the side of it.

The large silver double doors were easily twice Draco's height. Neither bore a handle or knob of any kind. Twin silver cobra heads with emeralds for eyes and long forked tongues protruding from their mouths were mounted on the doors just a bit higher than eye level. As Potter stopped beside him, both snakes opened their mouths wider and began to speak:

 _"Welcome, Prodigy of Salazar Slytherin."_ The unanimous hissing voices sent a shiver down Draco's spine, which was only made more severe as both snakes bent their heads to stare cold emerald gazes into his soul. _"Inside you will find our brothers, guides for your journey to the top. Three tests, and the prize for only the most cunning._ _Once you enter, you cannot leave._ _Match our master's wit, follow all instructions, or join the dust and bones scattered within."_

The snakes' mouths closed and they went still as stone again. Then the doors groaned slowly open as if pushed by an invisible hand. The tunnel beyond turned to blackness just a few steps inside.

Draco turned to Potter, who was waiting expectantly. "Right, so..." He explained the brief message the cobras had given him in Parseltongue.

Potter nodded once he had relayed the message. "Should we take down the tent? Do you think we have everything we need?"

"I didn't leave anything necessary inside the tent. I say we just leave it right now." He drew his wand, and Potter followed suit. Then he stepped over the threshold of the pyramid.

As soon as they were a few feet inside, the doors swung shut, enclosing them in total darkness.

"Lumos," Draco murmured, and the tip of his wand lit up. The narrow beam of light stretched across the floor in front of them where it revealed the bottom few steps of an obsidian staircase leading up into more darkness.

"After you then," Potter said, motioning with his own lit wand for Draco to ascend the staircase first.

Draco huffed and put one foot on the first stair. Honestly, knowing what he knew about Salazar Slytherin, he half expected a king cobra to come slithering down the wall and bite him before he could even blink. But, nothing happened. With each step, his anxiety grew as he expected to come face-to-face with their first challenge at any moment. He led the way higher into the pyramid, the only light coming from both of their wands and the only sound that of their feet and breathing.

Finally, there were no more steps, and they both stopped on the landing. Just as they began shining their lights around them to search for where to go next, two braziers burst to life with fierce green fire. They stood on either side of a curved stone archway. Above the arch was another silver serpent head.

 _"Defeat a foe no incantation shall affect,"_ the silver cobra hissed. _"The tool provided, attention undivided."_

As the serpent went still, Draco growled. "What, that's it?" He turned to Potter, who he knew was waiting for the translation. "Magic won't work on whatever is beyond this doorway. Something about a tool being provided and an attention undivided."

Potter shrugged a shoulder. "I'm surprised Slytherin is making a task without magic. But, if using cunning is the idea, then it makes sense."

Draco had already come to that conclusion. He knew he would have to think like Slytherin to make it through this pyramid of puzzles, but he hadn't expected to be asked to not use magic. What kind of tool would be provided?

Knowing the only way to find out and get his anxiety to lessen from sheer anticipation, Draco walked through the doorway, closely followed by Potter. They found themselves in a chamber lit with more green fire braziers along the walls. As soon as they were both inside, the archway behind them turned to solid black stone. From what Draco could see, there also wasn't any door leading out of the chamber.

His initial impression was that the room was empty except for a single statue. This didn't ease his nerves at all. Where was this enemy going to come from? Was it hiding?

"What's that?" Potter asked.

Draco looked to where Potter was pointing at the statue in the center of the room. For a moment, he wasn't sure what he was looking at either. There was something shimmery floating in front of the statue. Warily, and keeping his eyes open for any signs of sudden movements in the shadows, he walked toward the statue.

The statue was an ornately carved figure with the body of a man and the head of an ibis. It held a long, regal-looking staff in one hand. Over where the figure's heart would have been was a gash that looked like it was encrusted with crystals of varying shades of green. In front of the statue, at chest height, floated a dagger. The blade was a finely sharpened and polished emerald.

Draco looked from the dagger to the statue, thinking it was just too simple that the dagger would fit neatly into the hole in the statue's chest. He glanced back at Potter, though he was careful to keep the statue in his peripheral vision. "This thing is going to come to life when I touch this dagger, isn't it? Don't smirk. I don't like this. It seems too easy."

"Well, yeah," Potter said. "But it'll probably fight back."

Draco took a step back from the statue and looked around the room. Lying in the shadows cast by the braziers, he could see what appeared to be a few skulls and rib cages. Smaller bones were scattered around his feet. No, he didn't like this at all.

"Ok," he said. "Right." He turned to Potter. They needed to reason this out before they triggered any sort of attack from the statue. And, he figured they needed to be on the same page. In the middle of a battle wouldn't be the best time to communicate. "So, we've got to stab the dagger into the hole in its chest. But, it's going to attack us when we try. No spells will work on it. What did the snake mean by 'attention undivided' though? From what I've read, this looks like it's the Egyptian god Thoth. He was a god of writing, wisdom, learning, and stuff like that, so that makes sense for Slytherin. But why a physical fight then? Why not a riddle or something?"

"Physical fights have a lot to do with outsmarting your opponent," Potter said.

"True." Draco nodded and backtracked to where the door had been. He slid his bag from his shoulder and slipped his wand into one of the outer pockets. "It looks like only one of us can fight it at a time. And seeing as it's Slytherin's pyramid..." He almost hoped Potter would volunteer to do this for him. He had always relied on magic for, well, everything. Wielding a dagger was a completely foreign concept to him. He knew that Potter had at least used a sword once in his life.

Potter nodded and dropped his own bag beside Draco's. "I'll stay out of the way." Something in his expression softened like it had back in the tent when he was confessing his feelings for Draco. "Be careful."

Draco swallowed thickly and nodded. He forced himself to walk back to the statue. How long would he have after grabbing the dagger before the statue moved? He was wagering that it wouldn't be long at all.

He was right. As soon as his hand closed around the hilt of the dagger, the statue's staff slammed down onto his shoulder. A tingling numbness shot through his shoulder down to his fingertips, nearly making him drop the dagger. But he held onto the weapon and backed up quickly.

The figure of Thoth stepped down from its short dais and stalked toward him. The beak of the ibis snapped - either in warning or challenge, Draco wasn't sure.

As it advanced, Draco continued backing up. All too soon, he found a wall at his back. Now he understood why the pairs of prodigies whose skeletons were strewn across this very room had failed. One blow had nearly dislodged Draco's shoulder. And with how the figure was holding the staff, the green gash in his chest was almost impossible to reach.

But Draco didn't have long to think about a strategy yet. The ibis was closer now.

When he made to move out of its reach, he found it suddenly blocking his path. One step to the other direction, and it was there again. For a hunk of stone, it seemed to move much faster than Draco thought was even magically possible somehow.

It raised the staff to strike, and, seeing the gash briefly unguarded, Draco made a jab at its heart. But several things happened at once. The dagger met the gash at the wrong angle and deflected off the gemstones. The staff came crashing down on Draco's wand arm, and Draco both heard and felt a sickening snap. He sank to his knees, cradling his broken arm, and the dagger fell from his hand, clattering to a halt between the statue's feet as the staff was raised again.

This was it, Draco thought. The statue was going to crush his skull with the next blow, and he couldn't even think where to move quickly enough with the blinding pain from the last strike having dazed him.

But as the staff swung down, it was caught by a thin silver sword.

"Move!" Potter barked, stepping over Draco's legs as he pushed back against the statue's strength.

Draco pushed himself out from under the pair, careful not to hit his arm on the stone floor as he did so. He looked back at them. Potter was holding what he recognized instantly as the sword of Gryffindor, rubies glinting menacingly in the green firelight.

But Draco didn't have time to reflect on how lucky it was Potter had thought to bring it. The statue pulled away from Potter, seemingly disinterested in the other man.

"Malfoy! Catch!"

Draco suddenly found the emerald dagger sliding toward him across the floor from where Potter had kicked it. He grabbed it with his uninjured hand and staggered to his feet.

"I'll distract it," Potter said. He raised the sword as the statue turned away from him and brought it down on its back.

The statue was completely unfazed. It didn't turn or look in Potter's direction at all. It's hollow eyes never left Draco's face. Even when Potter jumped in front of it again to slash at its head, it didn't acknowledge him.

"Come on, pay attention to me, you bird brain!" Potter growled.

And then Draco understood the rest of the serpent's instructions.

"Potter, it's only paying attention to me," Draco said. "'Attention undivided.' It'll only pay attention to one of us."

Potter seemed to understand at once, and his gaze flitted to the dagger in Draco's hand. "It must follow the dagger."

Draco nodded, and he knew that somehow they were completely in sync about what had to happen next. He took another few steps back, drawing out more distance between him and the statue as Potter moved to stand in its path. When the statue was a mere foot from Potter and its eyes were still wholly focused on Draco, the blond tossed the dagger up into the air. It arched downward, Potter caught it, and before the statue could shift its attention to the new wielder, he had rammed it into the slot in its chest.

The statue went rigid and moved no more.

* * *

Harry used magic to heal Malfoy's arm before going any deeper into the pyramid. As soon as the statue had frozen, a door at the other end of the room had appeared.

"Might be sore for a bit," Harry said, releasing Malfoy's wrist and pocketing his wand. "I'm not Madame Pomfrey, after all."

Malfoy rubbed his freshly healed forearm as he looked around the still chamber. "Yeah, well, thanks."

Harry reached out to squeeze his hand, but Malfoy jerked out of his grasp and pinned him with a glare. Harry held up his hands in surrender. "Right. I'm sorry. We'll talk about stuff afterwards."

He couldn't help but want to touch the blond again though as a blush tinged the man's cheeks a dusty rose. But he refrained, reminding himself that pushing people into talking about things before they were ready often led to disastrous results. Instead, he bent and picked up his bag. "Should we go on?"

Malfoy was frowning, but he gave a small nod. "We have to get it over with one way or another."

Harry nodded and waited for Malfoy to collect his things before starting for the other end of the chamber where a dark archway awaited them. He understood Malfoy's rush to get through the pyramid whether it led to success or failure. It wasn't like they could leave. The only way was forward. And Harry really didn't want to have to spend the night on a hard stone floor surrounded by bones of past pairs that had attempted the same tasks.

They ascended another dark staircase identical to the first and met another archway with more braziers and another silver serpent. The cobra hissed something in Parseltongue. He had never mourned the loss of that power when the piece of Voldemort's soul he had carried was destroyed. But, now, he found it would have been much easier to be able to understand what the snakes were saying. But, perhaps, this was another test of trust between him and Malfoy. He had to trust that Malfoy would tell him the exact instructions and not alter or omit any of the message.

Once the serpent went still again, Malfoy turned to Harry. "'Silence the herald of Death. What is seen will perish by the jackal.'"

They frowned at each other for a moment, and Harry knew they were thinking the same thing even before they both said at the same time, "Banshee."

Banshees were malevolent spirits regarded as omens of death in the wizarding world. Their main characteristic was also a high-pitched scream that never ended until the hearer met an untimely end.

Malfoy sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "How do we defeat a banshee?"

"I don't know," Harry said. "I've only seen one as a boggart in Lupin's classroom. Maybe a Silencing Charm will work?"

Malfoy nodded, but was seemingly distracted by another thought. "But that only takes care of half of it. 'What is seen will perish by the jackal.' There's...maybe it's referencing another Egyptian god like Thoth back there. I think Anubis was the god of death, and he was depicted with a head of a dog or a jackal, I think."

"So...maybe another statue coming to life?"

"Yeah, but assuming it's like the first, magic can't be used on it. And nothing was said about another weapon to use. And...we can't let it see us. So, we have to silence the banshee before she can call it or activate it, maybe?"

Harry nodded. That made sense, but it wouldn't leave them but a few seconds to charm the banshee and hope it did the trick. He felt better having a solid plan this time before entering the chamber, but something about it felt too easy, too straightforward. Or, was that the point? Often, the simple solutions could be overlooked in search of a more complicated one to match the complexity of the problem. But, the question was which way Slytherin would choose as the most cunning to pass this puzzle.

"I'll cast the charm," Malfoy said. "You keep an eye out for weird statues."

Harry nodded and walked with him to the archway. Peering inside, there were more green fire braziers, and in the center of the room stood the banshee. She was unmistakable. Even though she was cast in green light, Harry knew the color of her skin would be the same sickly green in broad daylight. Her long black hair swept the floor, and dark penetrating eyes stared at them. She wasn't screaming. Yet.

When they stepped over the threshold, the archway sealed itself behind them and the banshee opened her mouth. The shriek that came from her was magnified by the chamber's stone walls.

"Silencio!" Malfoy shouted. His spell his the banshee square in the chest, but her scream didn't even waver.

Harry's ears felt like they may shrivel up, and he couldn't blame them. Even with his hands clasped over his ears, the wailing was already giving him a piercing headache. Could banshees kill with their voice alone? He couldn't remember right then, but he was convinced the answer was yes. If a statue didn't come kill them, maybe the harsh vibrating of his brain against his skull would do it for him.

"Why didn't it work?!" Malfoy yelled, his hands over his own ears. He was mere inches from Harry, but the volume of the banshee's wails made it seem like he was on the other side of a Quidditch stadium.

"I don't know!" Harry said.

Then movement caught his eye, and he nudged Malfoy and nodded in the direction of the wall adjacent to them. Another archway had opened, but instead of presenting a way out for them, it was letting something in.

A tall statue similar to the one of Thoth in the previous chamber downstairs stepped out of the alcove. This one had a jackal's head and carried a flail.

"What do we do?" Malfoy shouted in his ear. "How are we supposed to make it not see us? There's nowhere to hide. I was never good at Disillusionment Charms."

"Neither was I, but I-" Harry froze. Even as he watched the statue stalk closer to them, flail raised, something so simple occurred to him that he felt like smacking his forehead. Disillusionment Charms made the user into a sort of chameleon to blend into the surrounding environment. But, they didn't need that. Not at all.

The banshee's screams hit Harry full-force again as he took his hands from his head and began to rummage in his bag frantically.

"What are you looking for?!" Malfoy yelled, and this time, Harry heard the fear there. The statue was getting closer, and the banshee's screams were enough to keep anyone paralyzed.

"This." Harry pulled a length of silvery fabric from inside his bag, shook it out, and tossed it over them both. He pulled Malfoy down so they were both crouching by the wall, the Invisibility Cloak now successfully hiding their feet as well. As long as the Anubis statue wasn't enchanted with seeing powers akin to those of Mad-Eye Moody's magical eye, then he and Malfoy should have successfully vanished from the room.

They were both silent, hands over their ears, and watched as the Anubis figure looked slowly from side to side. He scanned the room and then approached the banshee. With one strike of the flail, the banshee exploded into a blast of wind. Then she was gone, and the statue slunk back to its alcove, which turned back to solid stone, leaving the chamber empty.

* * *

"I forgot you had that," Draco said, straightening once Potter had pulled the Invisibility Cloak off and stuffed it back in his bag. He couldn't help but feel they had cheated the task. He was grateful for Potter's quick thinking for sure, but it didn't feel like they had fulfilled the task like they had been expected to. Other pairs before them wouldn't have had an Invisibility Cloak handy. Granted, he was sure the Disillusionment Charm would have worked if either of them were skilled enough at it.

But, he supposed it didn't matter to Slytherin. An archway had opened at the other end of the chamber, beckoning them on to the third task.

"Ironic, isn't it?" Potter said, smiling.

"What's ironic?"

"Well...according to legend, this cloak was given to Ignotus Peverell by Death himself," Potter explained, buttoning his bag shut again. "He used it to escape Death for a long time until he finally took off the cloak to join Death. I guess the legend has something to it if we used it to fool a different version of Death."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I know that fairy tale, Potter. Whatever you want to think, it worked, I guess." He started off for the other archway, Potter following a few paces behind. He tried not to pay any attention to the few skulls and femurs he stepped over on the way to the door. It seemed very few pairs had made it this far. Would there be more skeletons in the final task's chamber? Or would it be empty and untouched?

Up yet another obsidian staircase, another archway and snake head awaited.

"Alright," Potter said. "Last one. We got this."

Draco pursed his lips and ignored him, instead looking up at the silver cobra and waiting for the instructions.

The serpent opened its mouth and flicked its tongue. _"Spill thy seed of life upon the dais, Prodigy of Salazar Slytherin. All partaking within must be consensual."_

Draco stared at the now still serpent, hoping it would speak again or laugh and say it was joking. But, it didn't move. His heart jolted wildly when Potter asked a moment later, "Well, what did it say?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating has been increased to E for things getting, ah, spicy. XD

It took a solid ten minutes of Malfoy pacing, mumbling, and running his hands through his hair for Harry to get the answer out of him. And when he did finally confess what the serpent had instructed him to do, his face was the reddest Harry had ever seen it. He was sure a Gryffindor banner would have paled in comparison.

"So," Harry said as Malfoy paced in front of the archway yet again. "You just have to cum on a dais in there?"

Malfoy whirled around. "What do you mean ' _just_?'"

"Well, compared to the other tasks, I'm counting this one as just a smidgen easier," Harry said, barely refraining from rolling his eyes. "There's no immediate threat of getting bludgeoned to death at least."

Malfoy snorted and looked away. "I'd almost prefer that at this point."

"Why? This one isn't a riddle. It's straightforward with what you have to do."

"That doesn't make it easy, Potter! It only appears that way to you because you aren't the one having to do it. This is demeaning and pointless. It proves nothing about being cunning at all. Slytherin is just making this a task because it's amusing to him!" Malfoy scrubbed a hand over his face and huffed.

Harry sighed. He couldn't deny that the blond had a point. What did this task really prove to Slytherin?

At the same time, he didn't see why asking that question was even needed right then. The snake had given the instructions, and it wouldn't change them. It was best to just do as told. The sooner the third task was completed, the sooner they could leave the pyramid.

Plus, Harry couldn't deny how arousing it was to think of listening to Malfoy touch himself and cum mere feet away. He would have preferred to watch him do it too, but he knew that would never be an option. The only reason he would even be allowed in the room with Malfoy was because they were required to go through the pyramid together.

"Regardless of how you feel about the task," Harry said after forcibly pulling his thoughts away from imagining what Malfoy's moans and soft sighs of pleasure would sound like. "You're going to have to do it. There's not a way out of it."

"I know that," Malfoy growled through gritted teeth. "But, I don't have to be happy about it."

"Technically, you do," Harry muttered.

Malfoy sneered. "Ha. Ha. You know, I hope Gryffindor has a personal task for you too when we get there. Maybe he'll have you throw yourself down a gorge and save me the trouble."

Harry grinned and gave a soft laugh. "Yeah, maybe he will. But, I can die with the memory of you wanking off in a tomb."

Malfoy flushed scarlet once more and drew himself up straighter. "This isn't some big joke, Potter. Slytherin is forcing me to humiliate myself to avoid dying. And, honestly, the threat of impending death if I refuse is not the most arousing thing."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Watching you touch yourself would sure be arousing to me."

To Harry's surprise, Malfoy just scoffed loudly and stormed off into the third task's chamber. Harry followed him inside, and the wall sealed behind him. He was briefly aware of Malfoy grumbling a string of curse words and bad names for Slytherin under his breath as the blond strode to the middle of the room where a short and wide dais sat.

But, as much as Harry was focused on Malfoy, his attention was suddenly pulled to the walls of the chamber. Whereas the previous two chambers had had smooth and blank obsidian stone walls, this one was etched and painted from floor to ceiling with Egyptian-style images. All of them depicted pairs of males in various states of undress and sexual positions. Clearly, Slytherin had wanted his prodigy to have no excuse or lack of inspiration for this task.

Harry then looked back at Malfoy. The man had seated himself on the dais, which was basically a circular slab of obsidian a foot thick and six feet wide. He had buried his face in his hands, his fingers threaded into his hair.

"You know," Harry said, walking over to him and stopping several feet away. "You still have a choice. You don't actually have to do this."

Malfoy gave a hollow laugh and didn't look up. "I'm not going to make either of us die over this. I'm just...trying to wrap my head around this."

"Right, well, there's no rush, I suppose," Harry said. He moved over to one wall and sat down with his back against the cool stone. "We've made good time. Just tell me when to close my eyes and cast Muffliato on me when you decide you're ready."

Yes, as much as Harry wanted to witness and/or listen to Malfoy's self pleasure, he knew it wouldn't speed things along. Malfoy would undoubtedly be uncomfortable with the thought of Harry watching or even listening. Besides, just as Harry hadn't wanted to see Malfoy naked in the shower without his permission, he definitely didn't want this without Malfoy's consent either. It would be much better and more worth the wait if he let things pan out and see if the blond ever reached a place where he wanted to act on his feelings for Harry.

Harry took out a book from his bag and began to read. He didn't know how long Malfoy would need to prepare himself mentally for this task, and reading seemed like something easy to do that communicated that Harry wasn't impatient with the situation.

As Harry read, he occasionally cast a glance in Malfoy's direction over the top of his book. For a while, Malfoy just sat there staring at the floor. Then he shifted to examining all the pictures on the walls. Maybe he was trying to arouse himself with the ancient pornography. Eventually though, after maybe an hour, Malfoy got up to pace again, this time walking circles around the dais.

Harry lowered his book. "Would it make it better if I let you Stupefy me?"

"The thought crossed my mind," Malfoy said as he closed another loop of the dais. "But I'm not sure how much that would help."

"Well, what would help?" Harry asked seriously, because Malfoy looked more stressed and overwhelmed than he had ever seen him. "Can I do anything?"

Malfoy stopped and turned sharply on him. "What does that mean?"

Harry shrugged a shoulder and set his book aside. "I don't know. Maybe I could transfigure myself into a dildo or something."

At first, Malfoy flushed and stared at him open-mouthed. And then he abruptly began to laugh, and Harry was glad to see some of the tension leave the man's face.

Harry grinned and got to his feet. He walked over to him, deciding to take a chance while Malfoy was still laughing. "What is the reason that nothing can happen between us, Draco?" he asked softly.

The use of the blond's first name seemed to wrench him back to sobriety, though he still seemed less tense than a few moments previous. He frowned, sighed, and then said, "I'm not into getting close to people anymore. I really never was, to tell the truth. But it only got worse when my parents and most of my friends died in the battle. And then the rest seemed to just vanish. People didn't write back after the war ended. I just can't take that kind of hurt again. Not death, not heartbreak, not anything. I like being in control of who has access to my emotions."

"That's all perfectly normal," Harry said, frowning in thought as he realized just how lonely Malfoy must secretly feel. It reminded him of when he had lived with the Dursleys before he had ever known about Hogwarts. "I lost a lot of wonderful friends that night too. But...you can't cut yourself off from ever feeling a real connection with anyone ever again. Ron and Hermione were how I got through some of the darkest periods of my life."

"It's different for you," Malfoy said, looking directly at him now. "People like you. You naturally draw people in. People don't leave you on purpose, Potter."

"People approach me because I'm famous. But, the real friends I have are the ones that stuck around even once they realized I had no clue what I was doing half the time and still liked me for who I was underneath the fame." He reached out and stroked two fingers over the back of Malfoy's hand. "You could have some of the greatest experiences of your life if you let people in."

Malfoy clenched his jaw, and his gaze flitted to their hands. Harry's fingers had went still but were still brushing against his hand. He looked back up at Harry. "I can't think about this right now, Potter." He pulled his hand away and crossed his arms over his abdomen. "I see your point, but I just can't right now."

Harry nodded. That was a good enough answer for him. It at least gave both of them something to think about on the second half of their journey. "Ok. I understand. Well, seriously, let me know if you think of a way I can help." He turned to walk back over to where he had left his book, but Malfoy suddenly grabbed his hand. He turned back to him, one eyebrow raised. "What?" he asked, because Malfoy looked perhaps even more startled than he was by Malfoy having taken hold of his wrist.

Malfoy focused on a spot on the floor some feet from them as he said, "You could...talk to me."

"Talk to you?" Harry asked. For a singular second, he was confused. But seeing how nervous Malfoy looked, he realized almost instantly what the man was getting at. "Oh. You want me to _talk_ to you."

Malfoy gave an almost imperceptible nod and let go of Harry's hand. "Yeah. Maybe just turn away and...and just...say stuff that'll...help."

Harry nodded, fighting to keep his expression blank for both of their sakes. Talking dirty to Malfoy while he touched himself was extremely enticing. It would give him an excuse to let his own mind wander and imagine what he would like to do to the blond if given the chance. Granted, it would also be torture. He might succeed in turning Malfoy on for the task, but he was definitely going to arouse himself and not being able to do anything about it or touch Malfoy would be excruciating.

"Ok, so...yeah," Malfoy said. He motioned to Harry to step away while his hands went to the waistband of his pants.

Harry swallowed and took a few steps back from Malfoy and the dais. He turned so his back was to the other man. "Tell me when you want me to start."

* * *

His heart beating wildly like it wanted to jump ship, Draco pushed his pants and boxer briefs down past his knees. Carefully, he knelt on the obsidian dais and began to coax his cock to life with his fingertips. "Ok..." His mouth was extremely dry from the nerves, and he swallowed painfully. "Go ahead."

"The past few nights," Potter began slowly, "I've thought about how your cock would feel in my mouth."

Draco shivered and drew his hand down his cock from base to tip and back again. Was that true, he wondered. Or was Potter just making up things for the sake of this task?

"I thought about how smooth and soft that skin there would be, about how sweet your cum would taste." Potter's voice had suddenly grown more confident as he talked.

Draco's hand nearly jerked too hard at these words. Now he was picturing it: Potter's lips wrapped around his base while he stared up at him searchingly with those gorgeous green eyes. His cock grew harder and larger in his hand as this image filled his mind.

"I would want to suck every last drop from you," Potter said, and now Draco could hear a husky breathiness to the man's tone. Was he becoming aroused too? Was Potter, right then and there, nursing an erection for him? "Then, I would bend you over, spread you wide..."

Draco gasped, imagining that. He almost had the urge to bend over himself to help the image have a firmer, more vivid grip. Part of him wanted Potter to stop, because an urge to speak was clawing at his own lips and he was both fearful and excited about what he might say.

"I would fuck you," Potter said, and Draco heard him blow out a heavy passion-laced breath. "Just absolutely fuck the hell out of you. And, god...I'd love to tie you up, fit you with a chastity cage, and just ram you full of my cock until you're whimpering with pleasure."

Draco was shaking by now, and his hand was making such uneven movements that it was hard to get a good rhythm going. "Potter," he said, and he thought he had maybe snapped the word in his current state. "Come here. If you really want all that, come here and do this for me."

Potter knelt behind him almost immediately, and Draco wondered if he had been gradually moving closer to him as he talked. But this anxious thought was driven from his mind as Potter pressed his torso against his back. A thick, very hard and very large erection pressed into the base of Draco's spine. From what he could tell, it seemed Potter had taken off his pants but graciously left his underwear on. Draco was aroused, but he wasn't sure he wanted to have penetrative sex with Potter. Not...well, not yet, anyway.

Potter wrapped his arms around Draco's waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. "You want me to do it for you?" he purred in his ear. He stroked his fingertips over Draco's lower abdomen.

Draco nodded eagerly and laid his head back against Potter. "Yes. Make me cum."

A little jolt of nerves shot through Draco's stomach as his hand was pushed away from his cock and Potter shifted his body back from Draco's a little. Then Potter closed his hand over Draco's cock at the same time that his other hand moved to cradle his balls.

Draco sucked in a breath and closed his eyes in bliss as Potter fondled him. Potter struck up a rhythm that quickly had Draco breathless. With each pass of his hand, he ran his thumb over Draco's slit, and Draco was sure Potter was actually going to pull his soul from his body whenever he did orgasm.

"I love all the little sounds you make," Potter breathed in his ear. "And think of how many more sounds you'll make when I'm fucking you."

"If," Draco said softly. "If you fuck me." He wouldn't have Potter assuming they were going to have sex right there in the middle of a tomb.

Potter's hand didn't even miss a beat, and he kissed his neck. "Yes, if. If you want that at a later time, I will look forward to drawing new sounds from you."

Any reply Draco might have given died in his throat as Potter chose then to run a single fingertip along the vein on the underside of his cock. It was just one stroke before Potter returned to the regular rhythm, but Draco felt like he was vibrating.

"Potter," he breathed after a few more moments. His mouth felt completely dry as the nerves and excitement from having Potter touch him warred in his stomach. But this feeling was quickly being overtaken by a growing tightness lower down. He tucked his face into Potter's neck and gave a little mewl when the raven-haired man gently squeezed his sac.

"Do you want to cum for me, Draco?"

Draco nodded against his neck, feeling he was about to burst. He only needed a few more passes of Potter's hand and he would be there falling over the edge into bliss.

"Look with me," Potter said. "I want both of us to watch me making you cum."

Draco swallowed with some difficulty as fresh nervousness thrummed through his veins. But, he did as Potter asked, or rather, commanded. And there was something so undeniably sexy about Potter's behavior that he didn't even feel any annoyance at taking demands from him. He tilted his head down and opened his eyes so he could see the man's hand moving rapidly up and down his cock. He shivered as the sight paired with the tactile sensation seemed to blend together wonderfully and make him even harder. The next time Potter's hand slid to his tip, he groaned loudly as he suddenly released, spilling cum onto the dais in several long stripes.

"Good," Potter murmured in his ear, though his heart was beating so loudly just then that he wasn't sure if Potter might have yelled it.

Draco slumped back against him and barely refrained from whining when Potter withdrew his hand from his cock. A quick glance back down revealed that Potter's knuckles had been painted in a strip of his cum. Before Draco could think to offer to perform a Scouring Charm, the hand had disappeared out of sight. Then he heard what was unmistakably Potter licking his fingers clean.

"I was right," Potter said huskily. "You do taste sweet."

Draco swallowed again, this time trying to work some saliva back into his mouth so he could talk at a normal tone again. Now that he was coming down from his high, he realized it was time to move. But part of him wasn't ready to leave the intimate moment just yet. "Maybe..." he said and had to swallow again. "We can-"

A sudden banging made them both turn to look behind them. An archway had opened to reveal a final staircase leading upward. And from this doorway was coming the sounds of loud banging and shuffling. It sounded very much like something was trying to get out.


	10. Chapter 10

Hurriedly, Harry stood and pulled up his pants, his attention focused solely on the doorway in case anything came running down the stairs at them. Malfoy was soon at his shoulder, a bit pink-faced and still out of breath as he fastened his trousers.

"Didn't think ghosts could interact with physical objects," Malfoy said.

"That's why I'm worried." A sinister thought jabbed its way into his mind. "Unless his spirit is still trapped in his body." He looked at the blond in question to see if he shared the same thought, but Malfoy wouldn't make eye contact with him. Was this how it was going to be? They had shared an intimate moment and the man was going to be embarrassed by it or brush it off like it never happened?

Harry sighed and went to retrieve his bag, crouching to pick up his book and stuff it into the bag as well. He returned to Malfoy, who was now standing at the bottom of the staircase and looking up it as if trying to discern what they were about to encounter merely from the shuffling sounds.

"It's going to be a mummy, isn't it?" Malfoy said when Harry stopped beside him and drew his wand as the blond had done.

"Most likely," Harry said. He looked up the dim staircase. "Might as well face it. It probably won't hurt us." He started up the stairs with Malfoy just a few steps behind him and distinctly heard the man mutter something about how he 'didn't like conducting his life based on probably's.'

The single door at the top of the stairs was solid silver. Another silver serpent head was mounted on the door, immobile but presumably awaiting to be spoken to. The shuffling and banging from the other side of the door was louder now, and Harry thought it sounded oddly like the creature within was trying to move heavy furniture.

Harry stepped aside so Malfoy could ascend the last stair and speak in Parseltongue to the serpent. Instead of speaking back to him, it simply bowed its head in respect, and the door swung open.

Whatever Harry had expected to be inside, it was not a half-clothed, walking and cursing skeleton that was trying to shift a silver cauldron out of its path only to have both its arms fall off at the elbow and clatter to pieces across the floor. "Fucking Ra," it grumbled, its jawbone clacking as it spoke.

Right away, Harry knew this couldn't be the great Salazar Slytherin. Obviously, from the decorations in the burial chamber, which included many silver silk draperies that had been embroidered with hundreds of intricate emerald snakes, it was Slytherin's final resting place, but that stumbling structure of bones was not the founder. And then Harry recalled what Susan had told them about the tomb.

"Are you the priest that did Slytherin's burial rites?" Harry asked hesitantly. He and Malfoy were still standing just outside the door, and it seemed Malfoy wasn't in a hurry to enter the burial chamber either.

The chamber glistened with stacks and stacks of gold galleons, silver sickles, and bronze knuts. An elaborate green velvet and platinum rimmed crown sat atop a marble bust that Harry recognized as Slytherin since it so resembled the statue he had seen years ago in the Chamber of Secrets. Beside this was an erect scepter set with an emerald the size of Harry's first as the top stone where tendrils of platinum wound around it. A shelf of scrolls and large tomes was next to a table with a crystal ball and a deck of tarot cards.

In the center of the room was a wide plinth just large enough to hold what Harry could only assume was a coffin. But, it didn't look like any coffin Harry had ever seen. It was made entirely of glass, and it was filled with white smoke. As the smoke swirled and shifted inside, it allowed for glimpses of a tightly bandaged body within.

"Yes," the skeleton said as it crawled across the floor to gather its bones. It used its elbows to prod the fallen ulnas and radiuses until they snapped back into place as if by magnets. "I am the Priest Akil. Sworn protector of Salazar Slytherin's body." The skeleton pushed itself up onto its knees and huffed. "Do you boys mind helping?" He nodded to the scattered wrist and finger bones that had slid and bounced several feet out of his reach. Harry just now noticed that the priest had been sitting in a chair in the back corner, effectively trapped by the cauldron and a table.

"Uh, yeah," Malfoy said, and Harry followed him into the room.

Sensing that the skeleton priest meant them no harm, or at least was incapable of doing anything much more than throw a few bones at them, Harry stowed his wand away and began to search for the fallen bones. The tomb was so packed with treasure that it was no wonder why the priest was trapped. There was a path around the room only wide enough for both of Harry's feet if he pressed them together.

"So, you've been here all this time waiting?" Harry asked. He bent to pick up a bone.

"I drift through the other realm while the tomb is unoccupied and wake in this form whenever there are prodigies attempting the tests." The skeleton adjusted the white linen wrap around his waist as he stood again.

"Slytherin has some explaining to do about that last test," Malfoy said darkly from the other side of the room. He held a few small bones in his hand and was searching for more.

"Ah, I am interested in what the third test was for you," Akil said. "No pair has ever made it that far, and it is the only test that changes based on the Slytherin prodigy."

Malfoy straightened and looked murderous. "What do you mean it changes?"

"The first two tests are the same for everyone, but the third test is self-aware. That chamber adjusts itself to test the prodigy by offering something the prodigy wants but adamantly denies himself or herself out of pride, fear, or another emotion."

Malfoy turned scarlet. He was speechless for a moment and then chucked the handful of bones at the skeleton with a growl. "Just tell us how to free Slytherin and get out of here. I'm guessing you want to move on anyhow and that the only way to do that is to complete this challenge."

It was hard to tell if Akil looked startled at Malfoy's outburst since no flesh or eyes adorned his bare skull. But he inclined his head. "Yes. Just break the glass, and both Salazar and I will be free."

Angry determination swept over Malfoy's features as he spun around, snatched up the scepter, and slammed the head of it down onto the glass coffin. The glass shattered, and the skeleton priest fell to the floor with a clatter as easily as if he had been a puppet whose strings had been cut.

* * *

Draco gripped the scepter like a lifeline, anger and embarrassment pulsing through him as he watched the smoke rise from the platform, now free. How dare that stupid priest suggest he wanted Potter and was denying himself the man so badly that the tomb had turned it into a personal challenge for him. He liked Potter, but the priest had just made it sound like it was his greatest and darkest desire, and he didn't think it was. Was it?

But Draco was pulled from these thoughts as the smoke began to congeal. It took on a solid form, condensing and curving itself to form the features of an old man that was undoubtedly Salazar Slytherin.

"Well done," Slytherin said, but though what he said should have been praise, he sounded almost bored. "I trust your journey was satisfactory."

Although Draco was awed by actually getting to speak face-to-face with a man he had admired most of his life, he was still ticked off. And it was different now when he was facing Slytherin. The man was less of a legend and more real, like a veil had been lifted in Draco's mind to reveal him for what he was - a simple wizard.

"I suppose," Draco said, his own tone less than enthused. "I don't really like being threatened with death if I don't help you resolve things with your lover though."

Slytherin narrowed his eyes. "You may learn in time that love is more motivating than even death, young Draco."

"Then why didn't you make up with Gryffindor before you died?" Potter asked.

Slytherin closed his eyes momentarily as if trying to compose himself before he lashed out. He slowly turned to Potter. "Godric and I had not spoken in years when he was fatally wounded in an act of heroism, or rather stupidity. By the time I learned of his condition, I was too late. I have regretted it ever since." He turned back to Draco. "But do not blame me for the trouble of the prophecy. I did not make it. No one intentionally writes prophecies. They come unbidden to seers."

Draco rolled his eyes. "So, you didn't decide it was worth making up with Gryffindor until he was on his death bed?"

Slytherin drew himself up straighter. "Do not pretend to understand the reasoning of the actions of others. Pride makes people do things they later wish they hadn't. And impending death puts many things in perspective, makes old grudges seem childish. But, you will notice that Godric had his own chances to come after me to reconcile, and he never did. He is just as much at fault for our separation in death."

Draco frowned, but he supposed he couldn't argue with that. Death of loved ones often had a way of making people reflect and realize things they should have done or said while that person was still alive. After all, he had had many moments like that when reflecting on his parents' deaths. "Fine. So, will you make things right with Gryffindor now?"

"I will...consider it."

Draco threw up his hands. "But you just said-"

"Yes, and I also have had a few thousand years to think over the matter, wondering why Godric never came to me. I am still bitter. I want to reunite, but I also want an apology first," Slytherin said. "So, tell Godric, when you find him, that I will be waiting for him in the room where it happened." At these words, Slytherin's ghost began to dissolve back into smoke.

"Wait, in the room where it, what?" Draco asked, jumping forward as if to seize him. His hand closed on air where the man's sleeve had been.

Slytherin's head was the last thing to disappear, and he gave a wan smile. "He'll know what it means." Then he was gone.

* * *

It didn't take them long to find their way back out of the pyramid and to their tent. As soon as the doors of the pyramid closed behind them, it vanished. The landscape around them shimmered, and the Sphinx and the edge of Cairo reappeared in the distance. Though they had walked what felt like hours through the desert initially, it seemed they were only a mile or so away from the Sphinx.

Harry's thoughts strayed to Malfoy as he took down the tent with a few waves of his wand and then stuffed it back into his backpack. The blond had been uncharacteristically silent and extra broody since the encounter with Slytherin's spirit. Even now as Harry vanished the remains of their cooking fire from the previous night, Malfoy was staring dejectedly at the ground.

"Are you ok?" Harry asked, stopping in front of him.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah," Malfoy said, blinking and looking up. He made eye contact with him for the briefest of seconds before looking away toward the city. "I'm just tired. We should tell Susan we're alive and then head back to the hotel. We can use our blood on the map again and see where we're headed for Gryffindor now. Make a plan and stuff."

Harry pressed his lips together in a firm line. "I think we've done enough for one day. We should just tackle any Gryffindor stuff tomorrow. Because I know what you're really trying to do. You're trying to get out of talking about our feelings for each other. You agreed we would talk once we got back to Cairo."

"We already talked enough in the tomb."

Harry frowned. "We barely scratched the surface. All we did was talk about how you don't want attachments."

"And I still don't," Malfoy said stiffly. "Just because you...whatever happened in that pyramid is going to _stay_ in that pyramid. It doesn't change the fact that I don't want any attachments. It was all just heat of the moment stuff. Nothing has changed."

"But you admitted to seeing my point about how letting people in might be good."

"And look at what letting people in did to Slytherin," Malfoy said, gesturing vaguely at the desert behind Harry. "He's spent thousands of years unable to move on because he's been so wrapped up in his feelings for Gryffindor. And even if you argue that they're the exception to the rule, which I get because people don't normally hang around after death pining for each other, it's still dangerous to have attachments. His attachment to Gryffindor led him to hurt in later years that he never recovered from."

"Not every attachment ends that way though," Harry said, exasperated. "You're building up all this fear around something that could be great if you let it." He continued in a rush when Malfoy opened his mouth to argue back. "You think I'm not scared?! That I'm not terrified that if I open up to you that you might just walk away and hurt me? Because, guess what, I have the same fears as you. But, I balance those out by reminding myself that to the same degree I can feel pain, I can also feel happiness. And life is full of both pain and happiness no matter how hard you try to avoid the former. Without the pain or risk of pain, at least, you can't truly appreciate the moments of happiness. So...I'm willing to risk it. I'm willing to risk opening up, maybe even giving you my heart, and having you shatter it."

"Well, I don't know that I'm willing to risk it," Malfoy said.

Harry softened a bit. "I know. And that's what you need to decide. I want you to make a decision you feel good about. I'm just worried you're making rash decisions based on two men who died thousands of years ago."

"I'm basing it off other things too, but fine. I'll think about it."

"That's all I'm asking."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all the lovely comments on this story so far. Also, did no one catch my tiny Hamilton reference in the last chapter?

Draco was grateful that the illusion spell of the desert had caused them to only think they had traveled for countless miles. With the Sphinx only a mile away, that meant they could be back in the city within an hour. He wished more than ever that he could Apparate again now though, because traveling in awkward silence with Potter when he was weighing the possibility of starting a romantic relationship with the man was making him jittery.

Luckily, they were only half way back to the Sphinx when a canary yellow motorbike came roaring out to meet them.

"Oh my dear Merlin!" Susan nearly screeched as she jumped off her bike and tossed her helmet aside. She sprang at Potter and gave him a tight hug before, to Draco's surprise, doing the same to him. She pulled back, grinning broadly. "I've been watching the horizon off and on since you left. You guys did it! And in hardly any time at all, too."

Potter laughed. "You look about as relieved as I feel. Just kind of too tired to express it. And starved." He looked sideways to Draco. "Did we eat today at all?"

"I can't remember," Draco mumbled, though now that Potter brought it up, he was almost sure they hadn't since Draco had stormed off to the pyramid before giving them any time to eat breakfast.

"Then let's grab some dinner," Susan suggested. She bent to retrieve her helmet from the ground and brushed some sand off it. "You can tell me all about it. The others would love to hear too."

Draco shook his head, and she looked momentarily crestfallen until he said, "I don't think I can handle that many people right now. It's been a long day. But we can get dinner, just the three of us. I'm sure they'll still love to hear the story from you later."

Susan immediately agreed and after a brief discussion about where they wanted to eat, she Apparated all three of them plus the bike to a side street in Cairo. They walked only a block to reach the restaurant Susan had suggested. At that point, Draco was just grateful for food regardless of what it was.

As they ate dinner, Draco was the most quiet of the three, only speaking up at choice moments as Susan and Potter talked. Again, he was grateful for her presence since it meant Potter wouldn't be solely focused on him. But, as Potter recounted the story, he also had brief moments of panic until he realized quickly that Potter was changing or omitting a few parts of the story. The man told the events as if the pyramid had simply appeared to them at dawn one day with no mention of divulged secrets of mutual attraction. And graciously, he recounted the pyramid as only having two tests inside, completely skipping from the banshee and Anubis statue challenge to Slytherin's burial chamber.

Susan hardly touched her food as she listened to Potter talk. But, eventually, the story and her questions ran out, and she turned to other matters. "Are you heading out for Gryffindor's tomb immediately in the morning?"

Potter glanced at Draco questioningly before shrugging. "We haven't planned that far ahead. Right now, I think the goal is to get a hotel room and rest."

Susan nodded. "Right. Do you want me to take you back to your hotel?"

"We checked out of the room there when we left since we weren't sure when or if we'd be back." He turned his attention to Draco. "Do you want to stay at a different hotel for any reason?"

Draco shrugged a shoulder, not looking up at him as he gathered the last bit of rice on his plate with his fork. "Same one or different is fine with me. As long as we have two beds."

He could almost sense Potter's scowl, but he still didn't look up.

Susan ended up Apparating them back to their original hotel and gave them each another hug before she left.

As soon as they had checked into a new room and walked upstairs to it, Draco tossed his bag onto one of the beds and slipped into the bathroom without a word.

His chest felt like it was constricting while a weight on his stomach felt very much like someone had implanted a brick there. This tension in his body had built during dinner, accompanied by whirring thoughts. That was a big reason why he had been quiet. He could feel the anxiety attack coming, building, rioting in the blood in his veins.

This was different than his panic attack on the plane. That had been a reaction to finding himself in a tight space, but this anxiety was more thought-driven. Thoughts ran circles in his head of how he wanted to give in, risk heartbreak with Potter. And then every time he saw himself smile in some fantasy future with the man, the floor seemed to disappear from under him as his mind brashly interjected with thoughts of death or a simple change of mind turning his happiness to abrupt devastation.

He tried to combat these thoughts, but either his arguments were feeble or his internal voice wasn't loud enough because the thoughts repeated on a loop. After several moments where he had begun to shake from the sheer speed of his thoughts ramping up his emotions, he hastily peeled off his clothes and got into the shower.

The steaming water on his back seemed to loosen the tension just slightly, but it was enough to bring down a barrier. He began to sob, holding his hand over his mouth to stifle the sound and praying that the rushing water would be enough to cover any sound that escaped his fingers.

His mind was churning too fast now and it was adding more blurred and anxious thoughts every minute. It was as if someone had set up a whirlpool in his head and decided to chuck wet-start fireworks, dragon dung, and a Howler in it. The most negative things he thought about himself, attachments, and recent events of the past few days swirled around in a fast, loud spiral that seemed to drag him deeper and deeper into despair that he couldn't entirely explain.

A hurried knock came on the door of the bathroom. "Malfoy? Are you ok?" came Potter's voice.

Damn, how had Potter heard him? Oh. Right, the tattoo on his arm would probably be lit up and burning now that Draco seemed to be in peril.

Draco lowered his hand from his mouth and used all his control to help stop his voice from breaking. "I'm fine," he said, though he sounded anything but fine. "I'll be out in a bit. Just go back to what you were doing."

A mixture made of relief, annoyance, hope, and anxiety all at once swept through him as Potter outright ignored him and opened the door. The man's silhouette appeared on the other side of the curtain.

"Draco," he said softly. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing. Go away, Potter." He was struggling against his tears again, which felt physically painful to withhold. His throat was burning from the effort, and talking only made it worse.

"Not until you tell me what has you so upset." There was a pause. "Did I do something? Are you angry with me? If you feel like I'm pushing you into something you don't want or aren't ready for, that's not what I-"

Draco's sobs burst from him again, and this time, he didn't even try to quell them. "N-no, I..."

Strong arms enveloped him and pulled him flush against Potter's chest. Potter had torn back the curtain and climbed fully clothed into the shower, sneakers and all.

"W-what are you d-doing?" Draco said between shaky sobs. But even though his tone sounded a bit combative, he didn't fight Potter. Instead, he curled his fingers into the fabric of the man's t-shirt, clinging to it tightly.

"Holding you, what else?" Potter said. He shifted so one hand was pressed into the small of Draco's back and the other was on the back of his head, holding him close.

"Why?" Draco pressed his nose in against Potter's neck, forcing himself to take deep breaths. Even amidst all the anxiety and racing thoughts, he formed a solid good one, which was that Potter's scent was comforting.

"Because I care about you, and I care that you're unhappy, and I want to help if I can." Potter ran his fingers through Draco's hair, and though hot water was hitting his back and making him warm, Draco shivered.

Draco was highly aware that he was naked in Potter's arms, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned on him and simply sobbed, unable to speak through the tears now as his emotions seemed to unravel from their tightly bound cord and spring from him. He was grateful to find that Potter didn't speak again and only held him, rubbing his back and waiting until Draco was ready to speak once he had calmed a bit.

"I think I liked it better when we were enemies," Draco finally said after several long minutes had passed. He felt Potter tense at his words.

"Why is that?" came his reply.

"It was easy to hate you," Draco explained. "The possibility of...of loving you or anything like that...it's fucking terrifying."

Potter pulled back enough so that they were now staring into each other's eyes. Potter cupped his cheek in his hand and stroked his thumb across his cheekbone. He gave a nod. "Things are terrifying sometimes. They may even seem impossible. But, that shouldn't stop you from living. Instead, let yourself be scared and then do what ever the so-called impossible, terrifying thing is anyway."

Draco rolled his eyes. "That's easy for a Gryffindor to say. Bravery is what you're all about."

"Maybe." Potter slid his hand down to Draco's neck and brushed his thumb over his jaw now. "But Slytherins are about determination and ambition, are they not? That's motivation for bravery too." When Draco turned his head away, he continued, "Is that what got you so upset? Thinking about how scary attachment to me could be?"

Draco gave a slight nod and released Potter's shirt finally. He lowered his hands to his side and stepped back so there was a few inches between them. "Partially."

"Ok, so what else was it?"

"The third challenge," Draco said, and he hated that he blushed just bringing up the topic. He cleared his throat. "Look, why don't we talk about this when I'm not in the shower?"

Irritatingly, Potter raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Why? I rather like it this way."

Draco smacked his arm. "Get out!"

Potter laughed and climbed back out of the shower. Draco heard his shoes squelching with every step back into the main room.

* * *

Back in the main room, Harry used a quick spell to dry himself and his clothes. He then changed into pajamas and sat down to wait for Malfoy to finish his shower.

Ten minutes later, Malfoy walked out of the bathroom in pajamas, his hair still a bit damp. Harry couldn't help but think this freshly-showered and tousled look made the blond look even sexier than usual. As it was, Harry had barely restrained himself from looking over Malfoy's entire body while in the shower with him. But he had known it would have been inappropriate and much unwelcome in that moment.

Malfoy made about stuffing his day clothes into his bag for what seemed longer than necessary. He was obviously stalling, and when Harry cleared his throat pointedly, he sighed, slumping his shoulders a bit as he turned to frown at Harry. "There's no chance you'll let the conversation about the third challenge drop?"

"Nope."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and sighed again before moving over to Harry's bed and sitting down at the opposite end so they were facing each other. "I just started thinking about how you wouldn't have ever done any of that stuff in the tomb if the test hadn't made you. Or...if I hadn't made you. It feels...I feel dirty and kind of sick thinking that I forced you to touch me like that."

Harry laughed at this, but he quickly stopped when he saw Malfoy's expression darken. He shook his head. "I meant every word and action in that room."

Malfoy's cheeks turned a sharp pink. "Even the, uh, bit about the chastity cage?"

Harry couldn't help but smirk. "Yeah, if you'd like that. But if you're not into kinky stuff, we can-"

Malfoy waved a hand frantically, indicating for him to shut up. "Stop, just...stop. We shouldn't be thinking about each other in that way. Besides, even if you had those thoughts about me, you never would have actually acted on them if I hadn't made you." As he spoke, he rubbed his fingers over his inner left wrist, making this action seem like a nervous tic Harry hadn't noticed him do before.

Harry ignored this for now, deciding he could only handle one problem at a time. He looked at him tiredly and sighed. "You didn't make me do anything. I would have acted on those thoughts and wants eventually if you allowed, no, _wanted_ me to. The challenge was just...a nudge, I guess, for both of us. But, if you feel ashamed of what we did or even hate that I touched you like that, I'm sorry. I'm especially sorry if you feel I took advantage of you."

Malfoy shook his head, and the color in his cheeks became even more pronounced. "The test was only passed because it was consensual like the snake said. I wanted you to touch me. I just..." He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes. He was now pressing his thumbnail hard into the skin of his wrist.

Harry pushed himself forward and snatched both of his wrists, now holding them apart. "Stop," he said firmly, and it was this that made Malfoy meet his gaze, looking startled. "Stop touching those scars. If this conversation is making you so upset that you feel you need to cut or even harm yourself in the slightest, let's stop. I won't bring up the topic of us or those challenges or anything romantic again."

Malfoy shook his head again, and tears formed quickly in his eyes. "It's not the topic exactly," he said softly. "It's my anxiety. It's just the stress and worry over everything that's happened in the past few days building up all at once. I feel the urge to cut sometimes when it gets this bad, but I've been good about not doing it for a few years now. I just put pressure on my wrist to do something with my hands and quell the urge."

Harry scowled and released his right wrist, which had no scars. He pulled the marked left one closer though and closed both hands around Malfoy's wrist. "Do not," he said, staring purposefully into Malfoy's eyes now, "ever, _ever_ try to hurt yourself again."

"I know. I don't want to, believe me," he said. "And that's partially why attachment and heartbreak scares me. I'm scared of feeling so low again. It was a scary time in my life that I barely made it through. I was always scared I would cut too deep or something and that would be it. Despite how low I felt, I never wanted to actually die." He swallowed and rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. He sniffed and pulled his hand from Harry's. "Anyway...I think I'm going to make some hot chocolate. Would you like any?"

Harry was a bit taken aback by this offer, but he nodded and smiled a bit, his chest feeling a little lighter. "Sure."

* * *

Draco went to his bag and began taking out his travel cauldron and what he would need to make some quick hot chocolate. It was about the only thing he knew how to make himself, and he always found it comforting, which was why he had packed the ingredients with him.

But, he found himself give pause when he made to move some potion vials out of the way. They were from the night they had been handcuffed together and stayed up late brewing them for the trip into the desert. And one of them was a Sleeping Draught.

The plan forming in his mind was a bad one, if not incredibly stupid and rash. But, he needed time away, time to think without Potter around. Maybe, if he could put some distance between him and the man for a bit, he would be able to consider things with a clearer head and realize his feelings for Potter weren't really worth exploring further.

Making the decision, he carried the cauldron, ingredients, and carefully concealed Sleeping Draught vial to his nightstand. He set up the hot chocolate to brew and set the potion vial behind the cauldron where Potter wouldn't be able to see it.

"So, maybe we should figure out where we're going tomorrow," Draco suggested, turning back to Potter. "The prophecy mentioned something about vines and a jungle. I hope that doesn't mean the Amazon in Brazil."

It didn't take them long to get out the map and vial of their mixed blood and pour a few drops onto the parchment. Their blood did not move as far south as Brazil, but instead colored in the lower portion of Mexico, stretching from where it touched the Pacific Ocean just above Guatemala, along that shared border, and ending at the tip of the Yucatan Peninsula where it jutted into the Gulf of Mexico. The whole colored in area was about the size of Draco's thumb.

Potter frowned. "About the same amount of land to work with as we had with Slytherin's. Do you think Gryffindor's tomb migrates too?"

Draco shrugged and turned back to the cauldron to stir their hot chocolate. Steam was starting to rise, so he knew it was almost ready. "Possibly," he said as he added a dash of cinnamon. "And it's possible Gryffindor was also obsessed with ancient civilizations. I think that's where the Mayan Empire was located. They were pretty revolutionary and did brave things, I'm guessing. Plus, their temples and such were built in the jungles there."

"That sounds like a lot of 'maybe's' and 'if's' to me, but it's somewhere to start, I suppose," Potter said and laid the map aside. "We can fly there in the morning. Or, hey, we could ask Susan to Apparate us so we avoid the plane altogether."

Draco gave a noncommittal hum as he ladled the hot chocolate into two mugs he had conjured. "We'll see how I feel in the morning." He shifted so his back was blocking Potter's view of the cauldron and carefully poured the Sleeping Draught into one of the mugs. Then he slipped the empty vial out of sight in his pajama pocket. He walked back to the bed and handed Potter the spiked mug. "I make it the perfect temperature so it's ready to drink," he said as he sat down opposite him. He took a large gulp of his pointedly and indicated for Potter to try his own.

Potter took a long drink and was smiling when he lowered the mug. "It's rather good. Who taught you to...to..."

Draco forgot just how quickly a dose that large would act, and he lunged forward to take the mug from the man's hand before he dropped it. Potter's eyes were rolling back, but before he was dragged into a deep sleep, Draco could have sworn he saw a look of utter betrayal flash across the man's features.

Though he knew Potter would be out for several hours, possibly till dawn at least, Draco packed quickly. When he had gathered everything, he wrote a note and laid it on the nightstand beside Potter's bed. He leaned over and gingerly took the man's glasses off his face. He imagined sleeping with glasses on would probably be painful. He laid the glasses atop the note.

As soon as he stepped out into the hall and shut the door of the room behind him, pain flared up near his elbow. He growled, pulling back his sleeve to see the prophecy's mark changing. The serpent had now turned its back to the lion.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," he hissed at it and shoved his sleeve back down. "It's only for a few days. I'm not giving up on the prophecy." He adjusted his bag on his shoulder and headed down the steps.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please consider taking a moment to tell me your thoughts in a comment! :D


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